Thursday, September 04, 2003
YO, BY THEIR DEEDS YE SHALL KNOW THEM (Ishkabibble 26:1)
I ran into Big Fat Obnoxious Guy in the lounge of one of those fancy Florida resorts. He was traveling incognito (slimmed down, tanned, bearded, tinted shades), but there was no mistaking him once he went into action.
Just after 4 the hotel staff materialized and started bringing out some hors d'ouevres. BFOG pulled out a walkie-talkie.
BFOG: "Helen. Helen, Helen, come in."
No reply.
BFOG: "Helen. Helen. Helen, you there?”
Static.
BFOG: "Helen, come in. Helen, send one of the kids down with those trays. They're bringing out the food.”
Static.
A few seconds later Little Chubby Obnoxious Boy appeared and the two went to work. It was like the miracle of the loaves and fishes in reverse. Father and Son were able to make vast amounts of food disappear as if by magic. Platters of shrimp, chicken wings, egg rolls, fruit, vegetables vanished as soon as they appeared. I'd seen this act before so I wasn't surprised, but another guy was waiting in line obviously shocked.
Shocked Guy: "Hey, you took all the cheese and crackers. Now there's none for anyone else."
BFOG: "Hey, tell the staff to bring out more. That's their job, not mine."
AN OPPORTUNITY LOST
I was having coffee in the lounge early the next morning when BFOG wandered in.
BFOG: “Would you look at that? I don’t believe it.”
There was no one else in the lounge. He was either talking to me or to himself. It didn’t really matter. I kept my head down and took another sip of coffee.
BFOG: “I don’t believe it. What kind of staff do they have here anyway? All week long they’ve been sending me to the conference center and there’s a DSL hookup right there.”
BFOG: “They’ve been charging me too. Let me have a look at that. I bet that’s a hookup right there and they don’t even know it.”
And before I realized what was happening, BFOG was down on the floor, crawling under my table, trying to examine the hookups and outlets.
Usually, when an adult crawls by and touches me without permission (and this has happened more times than one might think), I respond in an appropriate manner.
I declaim loudly:
“What” (While delivering a quick kick to the ribs)
“Is the Matter” (another kick)
“With” (one more)
“You” (Stomp on any exposed fingers)
This usually move the offending party right along and leaves any bystanders convinced that the crawler has committed some unspeakable offense as well.
I aimed, and missed. BFOG was too quick for me. He was up, brushed off and moving toward the door.
“I’ll be doing all my work in here from now on,” he said. And he was gone.
I ran into Big Fat Obnoxious Guy in the lounge of one of those fancy Florida resorts. He was traveling incognito (slimmed down, tanned, bearded, tinted shades), but there was no mistaking him once he went into action.
Just after 4 the hotel staff materialized and started bringing out some hors d'ouevres. BFOG pulled out a walkie-talkie.
BFOG: "Helen. Helen, Helen, come in."
No reply.
BFOG: "Helen. Helen. Helen, you there?”
Static.
BFOG: "Helen, come in. Helen, send one of the kids down with those trays. They're bringing out the food.”
Static.
A few seconds later Little Chubby Obnoxious Boy appeared and the two went to work. It was like the miracle of the loaves and fishes in reverse. Father and Son were able to make vast amounts of food disappear as if by magic. Platters of shrimp, chicken wings, egg rolls, fruit, vegetables vanished as soon as they appeared. I'd seen this act before so I wasn't surprised, but another guy was waiting in line obviously shocked.
Shocked Guy: "Hey, you took all the cheese and crackers. Now there's none for anyone else."
BFOG: "Hey, tell the staff to bring out more. That's their job, not mine."
AN OPPORTUNITY LOST
I was having coffee in the lounge early the next morning when BFOG wandered in.
BFOG: “Would you look at that? I don’t believe it.”
There was no one else in the lounge. He was either talking to me or to himself. It didn’t really matter. I kept my head down and took another sip of coffee.
BFOG: “I don’t believe it. What kind of staff do they have here anyway? All week long they’ve been sending me to the conference center and there’s a DSL hookup right there.”
BFOG: “They’ve been charging me too. Let me have a look at that. I bet that’s a hookup right there and they don’t even know it.”
And before I realized what was happening, BFOG was down on the floor, crawling under my table, trying to examine the hookups and outlets.
Usually, when an adult crawls by and touches me without permission (and this has happened more times than one might think), I respond in an appropriate manner.
I declaim loudly:
“What” (While delivering a quick kick to the ribs)
“Is the Matter” (another kick)
“With” (one more)
“You” (Stomp on any exposed fingers)
This usually move the offending party right along and leaves any bystanders convinced that the crawler has committed some unspeakable offense as well.
I aimed, and missed. BFOG was too quick for me. He was up, brushed off and moving toward the door.
“I’ll be doing all my work in here from now on,” he said. And he was gone.
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