Concierges Get It Done From Passports to Tuxedos to Sold-Out Tickets, Concierges Make It Happen for Hotel Guests by Gina Shaw Iím a genie in a suit. Just rub me and make a wish." Thatís Doug Ireland, the miracle-working concierge played by Michael J. Fox in "For Love or Money." Foxís Ireland does everything for the guests at his posh Manhattan hotel: shuffles theater and pro ball tickets like a Vegas cardsharp, baby-sits birds and even brings romance back into the lives of a seemingly dowdy middle-aged couple. Concierges at the finest Washington hotels report that the moviesí portrayal of their role isnít always accurate, but one thing Ireland said about his job is true: "Nothingís impossible. Impossible just takes a few extra phone calls." Just what is a hotel concierge? At the best hotels, the concierge is like a trusted personal assistantósomeone the guests can count on to get any job done, from the mundane to the Herculean. Need dinner reservations at that sold-out restaurant? Call your concierge. Forgot to bring your tux for the Inaugural Ball, and the tux shops are all closed? Call your concierge. According to the National Concierg e Association, the role of the concierge emerged in the Middle Ages when, "as a trusted member of the royal staff, the concierge was an authority charged with keeping and protecting the keys to the palace." Itís much the same these days: The concierge holds the keys to the hotelís kingdom. In 11 years as a concierge at some of the finest hotels on the East Coast, from New Yorkís Waldorf-Astoria to Washingtonís Hay-Adams, Mayflower and Jefferson, John Dignan has seen it all. Now the chef concierge at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel on M Street, NW, Dignan has gotten a businessmanís Rolls Royce out of customs, served as a witness at weddings, personally decorated suites for the holidays and introduced Denzel Washington to Al Gore. One of his concierge staff at the Ritz-Carlton once flew to New York with a guestís passport so that the man could catch an international flight. One of the toughest requests of Dignanís career came during this yearís inaugural festivities. An important businessman and regular guest of the Ritz-Carlton was staying at their hotel in Pentagon City, Va., in the Presidential Suite, where $10,000 worth of renovations had been done expressly for him. And this manólike so many others clamoring at Dignanís desk every four yearsówanted a sheaf of Inaugural tickets. "I had all the tickets in line except for swearing-in, and I thought that would be no problem," Dignan said. "Last time I did this was Clintonís first inaugural eight years ago, and it was easy. I got a guy tickets, and he was sitting two chairs down from Antonio Banderas. This year, it was really hard. I donít panic, usually, but it was coming down to the wire." Then he heard from the Pentagon City general manager: The mogul wasnít coming unless he got those inaugural seats. "Two days before inauguration, itís becoming a problem. Iím starting to pace up and down the lobby. I was calling my ticket brokers, telling them weíd pay anything, whatever you need." But ultimately, personal connections saved the day for Dignan. A friend with tickets to the swearing-in agreed to give the businessman her seats in the senatorial section. The big day came. It was raining. And the executive never left his suite. Julie Saunders, assistant head concierge at the Four Seasons, once found herself called for medical duty. An elderly French-Canadian guest, who spoke no English, had been taken very ill. Saunders, who speaks fluent French, accompanied the anxious woman to the George Washington University Hospital and spent six hours with her in the emergency department. "I stayed with her the entire time she was being examined. I was the go-between between the emergency room staff and this woman," Saunders said. "It was very challenging for me, with all the medical terms. That was pretty intenseósomebodyís life and health in the balance." The emergency room staff eventually admitted the woman for a couple of daysí hospital stay, where she recovered. "The thing is," Saunders said, "weíre in the hospitality business. If youíre ill and in a strange country and you canít be understood, itís terrifying. You need someone." Most of a conciergeís achievements arenít life-and-death matter though. "Guests have whimsical demands, and in a luxury market, they have money to pay for those things," Saunders said. She once tracked down a rock-star-style luxury excursion coach for a wealthy Middle Eastern family to drive around the United States in, a task that proved harder than it sounded. "It took many calls to find what they were looking for. Most of these coaches are standard 48 passengers. I was at home and I thought of one other place, and I called this guy in Virginia who was able to do it at the last minute." The company supplied a driver along with the Gray Hound Line-size coach, completely customized and fitted out with leather seats, swivel chairs, televisions, VCRs, a kitchen, comfortable bathrooms and a bed in the back. The family has since returned several times to tour the states in the coach Saunders found. What else does a concierge do? Saunders, too, has tracked down a guestís errant passport, persuading Federal Express to dig through some 2,000 envelopes after hours. She also spends a lot of time in the fall helping out the children of frequent guests when they move to town for college. "We do a lot of little things quickly that make lives easier, more pleasant and more efficient. Theyíre not dramatic," she noted. Dinner reservations probably make up the bulk of the requests a concierge gets. Most of the time itís a mundane task, although Dignan points out that "magically" getting you into that sold-out restaurant means lots of personal relationship-building with restaurant managers on the conciergeís days off. ("Itís not a job, itís a lifestyle," he pointed out.) And, he added, he doesnít have a stash of ballgame and theater tickets in his pocket like Michael J. Fox did in the movie. "We use a ticket broker." But what if Sharon Stone wanted you to find her a truly wonderful restaurant? Thatís the challenge that faced John Dignan this summer, when Stone stayed at the Ritz-Carlton. "She was very nice, very cool, almost mesmerizing when you talked to her," he said. And of course, the hotel wanted to impress. "She said, ëI eat out quite a bit, and it has to be a very good restaurant.í" Stone gave Dignan a list of restaurants sheíd heard about, and asked him to choose. "I said, ëI like them, but I think you might really enjoy this one.í" He sent her to Teatro Goldoni, at 19th and K, where head chef Fabrizio Aielli is a friend. The restaurant boasts a chic table right in the kitchen, and Dignan made sure Stone was seated there. "She speaks Italian, and of course Fabrizio is Italian. They had this amazing dinner, he brought out all these courses and kept cooking for her personally, and she came back and couldnít stop thanking me for it," Dignan said. Gina Shaw is a special section writer for The Washington Diplomat.