Rule Number 82: Don't Call Me Anymore

The time has finally come. I am forced to admit that Topher does not stand-alone at the Sketch Hotel as the one who harbors prejudices (see the cabbie post). That’s right, I (a balding, alienated, overweight 43-year-old single white male) hold some bitter discontent towards others too.

However, unlike Topher's cabbies, my targeted group of pre-judgement is not occupationally based. Did I say group? I meant sub-group. You see, most people reserve rooms over the phone because they feel more comfortable with human interaction over internet confirmation numbers. Then, there are those who reserve rooms over the phone because they are completely oblivious to the existence of the internet and its many uses, besides porn.

12:15 a.m., the phone rings.

Cletus:“Well, howdy! How far are you from the fairgrounds?”

Me: “Uh... Well, we are...”

Cletus: “Cause I needa' room with a prime view, I mean we’re talkin’ right out over the skyline.”

Me: “Well sir, we-uh-only have two stories, but....”

Cletus: “Well then I want the best room you have. It’s me and my woman’s 3-year-anniversary and we we’re lookin' to get away from all the little idiot kids running around here y’know.”

Me: “OK, sure, not a problem. I....”

Cletus: “OK, now can I drink on the pier and shit?”

Me: “Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, so…”

Cletus: “Yeah but the cops won’t bother me right? I just came from Miami and ain’t nobody said nothin' down there.”

Me: “Like I said, I strongly advise you against it.”

Cletus: “So what’s your shark attack situation there?”

Me: “Huh?”

Cletus: “You know, are there sharks in the water?”

Me: “Right. Well, based off of my Discovery Channel shark week knowledge, the water is a little too salty up here for there to be a problem…” (I have no idea if that’s true.)

Cletus: “Hmmm. Sounds kinda' crazy to go swimmin'. How many buffets do you have nearby? I’m lookin' to do some good eatin! Oh yeah, and what else is there to do in your state? You got huntin? Racin'? I heard the border problums are expandin' up to San Fran!”

I'm stopping it here. I can't write anymore. If you had to endure the entire conversation, you would never read this blog again.

For another 45 minutes, ol’ Cletus peppered me with questions left and right. No number of Cash Cab episodes could prepare me for this level of trivia. I am simply not an information desk for random questions about geography, marine animal sciences, thinking for grown-ups and other things that your public school system failed to teach you.

The worst part of this early morning menace? He ended up not making a reservation. It’s OK though. I figure if he calls back I’ll just tell him it’s the start of prime shark feeding season the day he needs a room.

-Burt