Monday, July 31, 2006

108. Reasons I Am A Moron

First of all, I capitalized all the inconsequential words in the title of this post. That is enough to make me a moron by itself, but there’s more. And not all of the moronic stuff in this post is about my own moronity, but that of a few people. Stay tuned though, my moron moment comes at the very end—during the dénouement. (Okay, I don’t know what that means except I’m pretty sure I used it incorrectly here.)

Anyways, moron moment number two (#2). Why did I skip number one (#1)? Because it’s funnier than number two (#2), and the two (2) moron moments happened at the same time—meaning number one (#1) started first and ended last. Anyway, number two (#2) started when I ordered dinner at an aged-but-clean mom’n’pop burger stand across the street from my hotel (I’m on the road again.) The woman at the counter asked for my name after I paid for the food (double bacon cheeseburger, onion rings—notice, no drink) I told her my name.

Those of you who know my name know that my name is not ‘Ray’ but it’s conceivable how someone could mistakenly understand ‘Ray’ when hearing [my name]. She asked, “Ray?” to which I responded “yes” because—does it really matter anyway? Apparently, it does, because when another person brought my food to the counter, she looked right at me and intoned, “RrrrAHeeee” in a heavy foreign accent. I have nothing against foreigners—in fact I even like the band—but RrrrAHeeee? So I sat there. I didn’t even associate RrrrAHeeee with my real name at all, because it was now two steps removed from any semblance of my name. “RrrrAHeeee” “RrrrAHeeee” “RrrrAHeeee” she continued to call, and I was oblivious because my name is obviously not RrrrAHeeee. Once I realized it was my order, the woman had the nerve to give me a dirty look for making her call out my ‘name’ so many times.

Moron moment number 1 (#1) started about ten (10) minutes before the second (2nd) one when I went the hotel gift shop to buy a cranberry/raspberry Snapple. Did you know there are more phones in Washington DC than there are people? The Snapple bottle cap told me so. I grabbed a bottle out of the cooler and set it on the counter. The woman at the counter rang it up AT TWO DOLLARS AND SIXTY FIVE CENTS ($2.65). Then she had the nerve to tell me she didn’t take credit cards for less than ten dollars ($10). I told her I couldn’t buy the drink because I didn’t have cash and I was unwilling to spend ten dollars ($10) at her gift shop, but I assured her I would come back and buy something later. That’s when I ran to the burger joint and bought my RrrrAHeeee food but not before walking to the bank to withdraw some cash from my bloated checking account.

Then I went back to the hotel gift shop to buy my Snapple. Did you know Alaska has the highest percentage of people who walk to work? The Snapple bottle cap told me so. The lady at the register still had my two dollars and sixty five cents ($2.65) on the display. Evidently when I told her I was going to come back, she understood that I would be back immediately. Then she had the nerve to give me a dirty look for making her hold up all her other ‘business’ while she waited for me to come back.

Moron moment number three (#3) is truly a stupidramblings gem. I was leaving the hotel front door (after I ate my greasy burger ‘n’ rings) to grab my book out of the car. As I approached the front door of the hotel, the automatic door fairies didn’t automatically open the door for me—in other words, they didn’t do their job—so I looked to see if they were really automatic. The doors had ‘crash bars’ on them and a green-circle-with-a-black-arrow-inside sticker on the glass. So I pushed on the crash bar. That’s when the madness happened. The automatic door fairies must have been drunk to open the doors AFTER someone ran into them, because I broke the doors. The doorway consisted of four panels: two (2) sliding doors (that were supposed to move sideways for normal operation and swing outwards for emergency use) and two (2) glass panels that are supposed to break away in the event of an emergency.

You’ll note all of this happened in a matter of two to three (2-3) seconds:

Well, because the sliding door fairies had decided to open the door late, the door was partially slidden* open and when I pushed the crash bar and it swung open, it also forced the breakaway glass panel to dislodge and—how you say?—break away. The sliding door was then propped outward at about a thirty degree (30˚) angle and the breakaway glass panel was also dislodged at a thirty degree (30˚) angle. I pulled the sliding door back in line, but it was not moving automatically—darn those automatic door fairies. That’s when I forced the doors to slide open and I went outside to see what I could do about the breakaway glass panel.

Fortunately, the breakaway glass panel was not completely dislodged and all I had to do was lift it up and replace it on its molding. Once I got that all straightened out, the automatic door fairies decided the doors were healed enough to function. The world was right once again. I went to the car to get my book and returned to the hotel. The people at the front desk were kind enough to complete the dirty-look trifecta as I re-entered the hotel. I apologized for my moronity, but they still didn’t know what to say. So I left them to their stupor.

If you hear on the news about a bandit that took the front doors off of a Radisson hotel in the Los Angeles area, you can be sure it was stupidramblings who did it. But I didn’t do it because of any shenaniganery, I did it because of the automatic door fairies. And I fixed it anyways, so it couldn’t have been me even though my fingerprints are all over everything...

*slidden is the past tense of slided.


Cicada said...

If you could see me right now, I'd be giving you a dirty look.

The McCulloch Family said...

I can't decide if the doors or the burger is more funny. I know the obvious choice would be the doors, but I'm still laughing about the burger.

davecharliebrown said...

My favorite part of the post was the word "shenaniganery."

Bone Junior said...

Once upon a time at work, I called a client and was leaving a message with the receptionist, who must've been come kind of linguist-on-the-side, because she asked for my name three times. I responded as clearly as humanly possible, emphasis on the syllables and everytthing (SAIR-UH).

After repeating my name three times, her response was, "How do you spell that? B-O-B?"

I don't know which was more upsetting - the fact that apparently my name,(which has been on the top ten most popular names for girls for the last 25 years) is far too complicated for anyone to understand, or the fact that apparently I sound like a man.

barb said...

Oh my! I don't feel so stupid now for asking my Target cashier if I could give her a penny with my $3.00 for a $2.99 item and get a dollar back... hmm... wait. Yes I do.