As you probably know, I have issues with a variety of people. Some I can ignore… many I cannot. Those that drive me to the brink of insanity basically need to die. I have tried to think of less severe forms of punishment but I always come back to the same basic premise…if you are a douche bucket, you probably need to die.
Today, I am adding to this infamous list “bad hotel guests”. These are the people that seem to think that the hotel is their personal playground or just an extension of their home at the trailer park. They have no consideration for their neighbors whatsoever. Of course, they couldn’t spell consideration if their miserable lives depended on it so I suppose I should not be surprised.
One of the favorite games these douche nozzles play is “slam the door”. Now, I understand that the very first time you use your hotel door, you may not have a full appreciation of the weight or spring factor of the door. I can live with the first door shut being a full on slam…it happens. But, naturally, that is not the end. This barn door slamming goes on endlessly throughout the night as I lay in bed thinking of various ways I will hurt these people before I end them.
Anther popular game is “yell like an a**hole”. This game goes something like this. As you are standing outside of the door you intend to slam in a few moments, or as you are walking down the length of the hall, you yell at your “bud” about a variety of subjects. “I totally would have hit that!”, you say. This elicits the “You wish!” response. This witty repartee continues for as little as 30 seconds or as much as 4 hours. All the while I pray that God will shoot a fireball down the hall and incinerate them beyond all recognition.
My favorite game, however, is “bring the kids to the hotel”. This is the one where kids use the hallway as some sort of indoor track meet. They also slam the door some 200 times as they fill the ice bucket one cube at a time. The excellent parents can often be heard screaming, “Darrell Jr! You get back here right this second”. Except secondhas this drawl to it and sounds like “sek-unnn”. This hillbilly speech impediment sends flaming knives through my skull and, momentarily, I lose my focus on how I should eliminate these people. Generally, I quickly recover.
While I doubt I will ever fulfill my dream of ridding the world of the scourge that inherits it, a man can dream, can’t he? Well, no he can’t. Why? Because the giant fu**stick next door just slammed the door again.
I don’t travel as much as I used to but there are no signs whatsoever that these awesome habits are changing or improving. Again, if I could, I would just stick them on an island. But since I have already filled all of the islands I know of with other derelicts, I may just have to off this rubes. Your sleep deprived servant, TL.