Wonderful Weekend

My girlfriend and I went to Hilton Head this weekend. A good time was had by all. ‘Twas the perfect beach for someone looking for a restful vacation, rather than one that leaves you more beat than when you got there. Gorgeous beaches and scenery, but it wasn’t the crunk ‘n drunk beach. Last thing I needed was a bunch of people trying to touch me for no reason. Instead, I just had to deal with hearing the worst cover version of Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” at a bar on the beach.
I will admit, however, that the dreadful cover was a downer. That’s one of my favorite songs, one of the best love songs ever written, and dude just butchered. If I had any plans of pulling my lady close and tellin her to listen to the lyrics, dude blew that. Woulda been more romance listening to Biz Markie sing “Adore.”
Only had two problems on the trip.
1. The hotel was dreadful.
In fact, I’m not sure that’s fair. The most accurate description I could give the place was this–it’s the nicest piece of shit hotel I’ve ever stayed in. It had all the amenities of a nice hotel, but all the problems of the Don’tell. Big room, nice bed with lots of pillows, decent balcony, right across from the beach. Lovely lobby, too.
But if you want a hint of some of the problems, consider that the hotel offered wi-fi. Problem is that the wi-fi wasn’t working. I called the desk, and the lady said the cable man was there and that the problem would be fixed soon.
Then I saw this on the wall on the first floor.

That’s right–just a regular ol’ wireless-G router tacked on the wall.  I couldn’t make that up if I tried.
But hey, I can live without wireless.  We were just going to use it to get directions from place to place.
What couldn’t we live without?  Towels.
Get to the room for the first time, and there were just two towels in the room.  We took those to the pool.  Didn’t think much of it.  Just figured we could call the desk and get more.
We did that.  And we got towels.  A half hour later.  And one was soft.  The other?  Could’ve taken the paint off the walls.  Oh, and the face towels…one had a couple of spots on it.
When I was little, we used to take towels from hotels and use them to wash cars.  At this place, it looked like they took towels from washing cars and brought them to the hotel.  Not exaggerating in the least.
There are rags in my parents’ garage that were softer than those.
But hey, take the good with the bad, right?  And I wasn’t gonna trip too hard over the fact that the water in the shower had two settings–blazing hot and off.  And that the water didn’t exactly smell…clean.  Nor did it taste clean at any restaurant, like the water purifying people can’t get onto the island or something.
Yanno, I wasn’t even going to get too upset over the fact that the rubber sheet had a hole in it.  And ink spots.  Nah, those things can be lived with.
The substandard continental breakfast?  Take the good with the bad, I suppose.  I mean, the room had a nice ironing board.
But some heretofore unidentifiable red insect somewhere between the size of a silver dollar and a greenback?  Oh no no no…
Oh yeah, and the towels.  At one point, I went to the desk to get towels so we didnt’ have to go to dinner all sandy and things.  I was at the desk in line behind people for a half hour or so.  Then I asked about towels.  I was told…
“Michelle has you on her list, and she’ll get to you soon.”
Michelle apparently was taking towels to everyone that didn’t have them.  The hotel had three towers.
So what did we do?
Okay, what did my girlfriend do?  Go steal towels from the linen closet.
See, they had towels.  They were just sitting there.  All soft and everything.  They just didn’t feel like sharing.
And yes, it feels great to have a girlfriend that is trustworthy but not above stealing.  It’s a thin line to balance, but I got one that does.  That’s winning the game of life, baby.
There was also far fewer parking spaces than guests.
Seriously, it seemed like everyone on the staff took the holiday weekend off.
Here’s the thing…
YOU CAN’T DO THAT WHEN YOU LIVE IN A VACATION TOWN!!!
We vacation.  You come to work.  That’s the game.  Your vacation comes in October.  Wanna party like everyone else?  I suggest you move, pimpin.
Moving on…
2.  Almost got hustled into buying a timeshare.
You know the game.  You listen to a presentation, and they give you free stuff.  An hour of our time was worth $75.
Not gonna lie.  Their game was tight.  The stuff they told us sounded really good, and I was this close to getting one.  But three things happened.  First, I asked them if they had any materials I could take home.  They told me I’d have to make my decision there.  That reeked of hustle.  Kinda like when people talk too fast.
Then I called my mama, and she said it was a bad idea.  That was just about all I needed to hear.  She told me later that she knew I wouldn’t because I pride myself on managing money well.  Not true.  I pride myself on not getting hustled.  I got game, Jack.  That doesn’t make me impervious to the game of others, but I’d rather miss out on a good thing than let someone get over on me.  I ain’t about to be on “Fight Back” or whatever the analogous show is in this day and age.
But when I got back in from talking with Mama, the dude was talking to my girlfriend.  Walked closer, and I saw a piece of paper in front of her.  The dudes told her that we’d get a cruise if I signed up today.
Actually, that’s not what he said.  He said, “I put this cruise in front of the other guy to see if he would man up to get the cruise, and he didn’t.”
That was when I said “hell no” in my head.  However, I don’t say those things out loud.  At least not in front of strangers.  I just said “no.”  You ain’t about to try to goad me on the basis of my manhood.  In front of my woman, no less?  What next, gonna make some reference to penis size?  What kinda party you think this is, fool?  Bump that, Jack.
(Another sign this was a hustle that I just considered…dude that did the presentation claimed that no one would get commission.  They were rather pushy to be doing this for free.)
So then one of the dudes told stories about what some other cat that used to work there would do.  He’d tell someone to hold his wife’s hand, then put his credit card in his other hand, then to give the salesman what he cared about the least.  He would also tell dudes “if you don’t take your wife on this trip, some other man will.”
I say this with no humor.  I’d beat the brakes off a dude for something like that.  Wouldn’t think twice.  Cats need to recognize that their jobs ain’t half as important to them as pride is to most men.
Me?  It wouldn’t just be the disrespect.  Instead, it’s the simple fact that you think that I’m so fragile that I would go for something like that.  This ain’t like trying to get me to win my girl a bear at the fair.  This is picking up a mortgage.  What kinda party you think this is, fool?
Oh, and to top it off…I couldn’t find anything about these people on the Internet.  At least not the stuff dude showed me.  Clowns tried to piss on my head and tell me it was raining.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call Expedia and get some money back on that hotel.  If they don’t give me my refund, I’ll be here to tell you the name and address of the place.
For now, just be wary of the south side of the island.