Ron Popeil: Salesman of the Century

So here I am sitting in my hotel room on the road trying to come up with an idea for my next installment for the chronicles of my life. Not really having much luck. Just kind of leaning back in the chair and half dozing off. But then I remember the "buy one drink, get one free" ticket that I was given for the hotel bar, and I wonder what time the bar opens...

Which then prompts an obscure memory from an earlier incident on the road. Now I'm no stranger to having a drink or two on the road, but that is usually only when I go out with other co-workers and we have nothing to do the next day but drive home. But this particular instance kind of caught me off guard in the middle of the week with still a few visits left the next day.

OK, I'm not sure if you're familiar with the "Manager's Party." If you've ever stayed in a hotel and been invited to one, then you know what I'm talking about. If not, then it's when a hotel says: "Thank you for staying with us and probably paying way too much, but we're going to attempt to make it up to you by giving you some free "food" and some cheap booze." (Jesus, do these people know how to say "thank you" to me or what? I only wish that every time someone fucked something up for me that they said "thank you" with food and booze.) Anyways, these little shindigs usually only happen once a week, and not even on the same day every week. So there's no point in trying to schedule any eating habits around them. It's like playing "Press Your Luck" with food. And the "food" is rarely quality. Most times it's cold wings or some other finger food that's supposed to be warm but isn't. But hey, it's free and that's my favorite kind of food. Oh and booze. It could be beer or you might luck out and it could be beer. Yep. Beer. That's usually about it. And usually something crappy. But again, it's free and I'll take it.

Getting back to my original point. This particular night I was in a hotel in south Georgia. They informed me of the Manager's Party that evening in the bar area. I settled in my room and felt "Galactus" hunger. So I decided to go check out the situation in the bar. It ended up being in the back bar away from the regular bar, probably to keep the seedy, cheap bastards away from the regular paying customers. No worries, I felt right at home back there. So I get there and ask what's available. The lady (and I use that term loosely) behind the bar tells me that they have wings (of course) and a few other finger foods (told ya) on the table, and that we can have whatever is on tap or whatever wells we want.
Me: "Pardon?"
Her: "Whatever beer or wells you would like"
Me: *grinning*
Her: "For the next 2 hours or so."
Me: *ginning & wringing my hands*

So I proceed to ask her what wells they have.
Her: "Tequila, Gin, Vodka, Bourbon..."
Me: "Stop! That one."
Her: "Bourbon? It's 'Ten High'."
Me: "Sure. Whatever. I'll have a bourbon and Diet Coke, please." (What? I was watching my weight.)
Her: "OK." *hands me the drink*
Me: "Guh!" *wincing*

About 5 minutes later...
Me: "May I have another please?" (I knew damn well I was going to regret those 5 words but I couldn't help myself. "Free", remember?)

So anyways, I lean against the bar with my urine and Diet Coke when an older man walks up to me and starts up a conversation with something about "Am I sure I'm old enough to be back here?". Now if you know me, I'm not one for people. Flat out, I hate them all; which makes it extremely ironic that I do what I do, and that I'm damned good at it too.
Well I figure, "What the hell? Let's play along with this doofus." So I give him the obligatory chuckle and we get to talking. He asks what I do, and I do the same like I actually give a shit. "Blah blah blah, conversation that I don't remember, blah, blah, blah." He actually turns out to be a funny and interesting old coot. A traveling salesman if I recall.
*skipping to the funny part*
I remember leaving the bar after the "lady" (who I'm sure was much more attractive when I left than when I came in.) tells us all that the time is up, but we're more than welcome to continue at the other bar. (Now that's actually a good good business plan. Get a few drinks in us, shut it down and point us in the direction of where there's more booze.)
But I'm sure that I couldn't count how many drinks I had on both hands, so I went back to the room.
Next thing I remember is waking up half on the bed, with one shoe on, my shirt half off but hanging on by the wrist, and hearing someone yell "Set it and forget it!" I look at the clock and it's 4:30am and I have no fucking clue what's going on. But I figure I need some more sleep and I go back to bed. As is.

I wake up, shower and head to the free breakfast bar they had in the restaurant. I walk by the front desk to see a couple of ladies (actual ladies this time) just smiling at me and I hear them giggle/laugh as I walk past. And I'm thinking "Oh shit. What did I do?" But I eat breakfast and sober up. I dread walking back past them but I have no choice. They do the same thing again which prompts me to ask them what exactly it was that I did the night before. They really wouldn't tell me, which makes it all that much worse (I shudder to think, since I'm capable of most anything when drink)
and I'm actually glad that little incident has been stricken from the record.
Then I had to go about my business the rest of the day all the while trying to remember what I did.

So there's a little tale from the road. As I finish, I realize it may not be as funny to you as it was to me, but it probably is to those of you that have gone through that at a Manager's Party too. Oh well, off to use my "buy one drink, get one free" coupon.

D