No good deed goes unpunished, when you walk in my Weejuns. Last year, I sublet my guest room to a friend (not a close friend, although money does make for instant chumminess) for a week as he was attending a convention in town. The convention is an annual one, and he had asked about staying this year, but with the guest room occupied, the best I could offer him was the couch in the den.
He's out of work this year, and I couldn't expect him to pay me because the accommodations were different. This friend, who I'll call Norman is from a rather good-sized, not stuck in a time warp city in the East, about 40, asexual- although I did assist him last fall when he went through his 'am I gay?' process (no way in Hell, I told him: God is not that cruel (I said to myself). His interests are Hockey, Video Games. Comic Book Superheroes, and anything to do with Transformers. Most of you know I like Tennis, Video Conferencing, Comical Situations, and transformation via a different uh, milieu.
Norman is a nice guy....and I feel horrible that I was ready to strangle him 37 minutes into his visit. That's the time it took me to take the subway down to Union Station (20 mins) and search all over this 1939 landmark only to come up empty handed. Union Station is beautiful but a bit daunting at 11PM at night. Standing out on one of the patios, I called him on my cell phone.
"Norman, where are you? I've been looking all over."
"At the McDonald's at Hollywood and Highland. The people around the train station were starting to scare me."
So back on the subway I went to Hollywood, where the crowds are scarier than anything downtown, I think.
It didn't occur to him to let me know he decided to try to find my house and had I not called, I'd still be searching I guess.
The next morning, we head off to breakfast. I buy the Sunday newspaper and as we sit down, hand him the Sports section with coverage of the Kings, who were competing against the New Jersey Devils for the Stanley Cup. I put the rest of the paper down on the seat between us, because I am Not Going To Look Like a Boring Married Person.
Instead of perusing the special Kings section, Norman extracts the coupon section and begins tearing out selections, announcing 'I can use this to buy batteries when I get back home."
"Umm Norman, I use coupons too." Perhaps he buys into the legend that we're all rich here on the Coast. He believes that it could be possible that Aliens with Reptilian features are running Hollywood in celebrity disguises. He really does.
Because I apparently am a rich Left Coast Liberal Bohemian, I offer to pick up the check, as I know I won't be spending much meal time with my guest. He's quite happy letting me do this, but as we get up to leave, he floors me with this:
"I want to make sure the waitress got the appropriate tip. I don't believe stiffing hard working service industry workers."
He tries to grab the leather folder my signed receipt is in but I stop that with "My parents owned restaurants, Norman." Yes I know I should have said 'You pay the bill, you determine the tip' but I didn't think about it. I was wondering if there was a cleaver laying around that I could use to make Norman Meat Pies with.
Outside on the sidewalk, Norman announced he needed Claritin-D. And for the next hour of this episode, each time I would say 'Claritin' , he would correct me. 'Claritin-D'. You're probably thinking Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, autistic savant, Asperger's, and that I'm an A-11 schlemiel. I researched all those terms (except schlemiel) and my guest didn't fit any of those types. It took us three stops to find Claritin....D, because the pharmacist on duty either was too slow, too stupid or 'ignored' Norman. God bless the sexy pharma-gal at CVS who listened patiently and delivered quickly my friend's meds.
Norman mentioned he needed to go buy a grocery store and load up on snacks, as well as milk and iced tea: he didn't want to drink all of mine.
"Are you saying there's no milk or iced tea in the refrigerator at home?" I asked. Do what you must, but do not leave me out of milk, iced tea, toilet paper or mouthwash.
He had not, and he told me he'd replace what he did take.
Thus, my Red Top/Vitamin D/Homo Milk was replaced with something called Smart Heart Fat Free Wise Size WhiteLiquid.
My Sweet Iced Tea was replaced with Diet Green Tea.
Mind you, he's been in Los Angeles less than 24 hours.
I don't remember him being so needy and so fucking cheap last year. I do remember him asking last year if I minded if he strolled around in his underwear. I pretended not to hear him.
I could go on: how by using my towel rack (tossing my still damp towels on the floor)to hang his suits on left numerous scratches on my recently re-painted bathroom walls. Or how he almost barged right in on me while I was 'in conference' naked as jaybird. Personal space seemed to be a foreign concept. I found myself missing the tweaker personality: I could handle those much easier.
Probably what bothered me the most was his assessment of Los Angeles as a seedy, sleazy Babylon of opportunists and ne'er do wells': all the time lapping up any freebies he could glom on to for the 'folks back home'. Bad manners and hypocrisy I don't tolerate on the internet: why would I allow such nonsense in my own house?
He is gone now, and I learned some lessons: make sure guests are self-sufficient and independent. Get plenty of rest so as not to be infuriated by small things, like the babytalk he used with my pets that brought visions of The Hand that Rocks the Cradle but with a frumpy asthmatic wacko nanny and a sexy, attractive parent (me! That's me!)
He's out of work this year, and I couldn't expect him to pay me because the accommodations were different. This friend, who I'll call Norman is from a rather good-sized, not stuck in a time warp city in the East, about 40, asexual- although I did assist him last fall when he went through his 'am I gay?' process (no way in Hell, I told him: God is not that cruel (I said to myself). His interests are Hockey, Video Games. Comic Book Superheroes, and anything to do with Transformers. Most of you know I like Tennis, Video Conferencing, Comical Situations, and transformation via a different uh, milieu.
Norman is a nice guy....and I feel horrible that I was ready to strangle him 37 minutes into his visit. That's the time it took me to take the subway down to Union Station (20 mins) and search all over this 1939 landmark only to come up empty handed. Union Station is beautiful but a bit daunting at 11PM at night. Standing out on one of the patios, I called him on my cell phone.
"Norman, where are you? I've been looking all over."
"At the McDonald's at Hollywood and Highland. The people around the train station were starting to scare me."
So back on the subway I went to Hollywood, where the crowds are scarier than anything downtown, I think.
It didn't occur to him to let me know he decided to try to find my house and had I not called, I'd still be searching I guess.
The next morning, we head off to breakfast. I buy the Sunday newspaper and as we sit down, hand him the Sports section with coverage of the Kings, who were competing against the New Jersey Devils for the Stanley Cup. I put the rest of the paper down on the seat between us, because I am Not Going To Look Like a Boring Married Person.
Instead of perusing the special Kings section, Norman extracts the coupon section and begins tearing out selections, announcing 'I can use this to buy batteries when I get back home."
"Umm Norman, I use coupons too." Perhaps he buys into the legend that we're all rich here on the Coast. He believes that it could be possible that Aliens with Reptilian features are running Hollywood in celebrity disguises. He really does.
Because I apparently am a rich Left Coast Liberal Bohemian, I offer to pick up the check, as I know I won't be spending much meal time with my guest. He's quite happy letting me do this, but as we get up to leave, he floors me with this:
"I want to make sure the waitress got the appropriate tip. I don't believe stiffing hard working service industry workers."
He tries to grab the leather folder my signed receipt is in but I stop that with "My parents owned restaurants, Norman." Yes I know I should have said 'You pay the bill, you determine the tip' but I didn't think about it. I was wondering if there was a cleaver laying around that I could use to make Norman Meat Pies with.
Outside on the sidewalk, Norman announced he needed Claritin-D. And for the next hour of this episode, each time I would say 'Claritin' , he would correct me. 'Claritin-D'. You're probably thinking Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, autistic savant, Asperger's, and that I'm an A-11 schlemiel. I researched all those terms (except schlemiel) and my guest didn't fit any of those types. It took us three stops to find Claritin....D, because the pharmacist on duty either was too slow, too stupid or 'ignored' Norman. God bless the sexy pharma-gal at CVS who listened patiently and delivered quickly my friend's meds.
Norman mentioned he needed to go buy a grocery store and load up on snacks, as well as milk and iced tea: he didn't want to drink all of mine.
"Are you saying there's no milk or iced tea in the refrigerator at home?" I asked. Do what you must, but do not leave me out of milk, iced tea, toilet paper or mouthwash.
He had not, and he told me he'd replace what he did take.
Thus, my Red Top/Vitamin D/Homo Milk was replaced with something called Smart Heart Fat Free Wise Size WhiteLiquid.
My Sweet Iced Tea was replaced with Diet Green Tea.
Mind you, he's been in Los Angeles less than 24 hours.
I don't remember him being so needy and so fucking cheap last year. I do remember him asking last year if I minded if he strolled around in his underwear. I pretended not to hear him.
I could go on: how by using my towel rack (tossing my still damp towels on the floor)to hang his suits on left numerous scratches on my recently re-painted bathroom walls. Or how he almost barged right in on me while I was 'in conference' naked as jaybird. Personal space seemed to be a foreign concept. I found myself missing the tweaker personality: I could handle those much easier.
Probably what bothered me the most was his assessment of Los Angeles as a seedy, sleazy Babylon of opportunists and ne'er do wells': all the time lapping up any freebies he could glom on to for the 'folks back home'. Bad manners and hypocrisy I don't tolerate on the internet: why would I allow such nonsense in my own house?
He is gone now, and I learned some lessons: make sure guests are self-sufficient and independent. Get plenty of rest so as not to be infuriated by small things, like the babytalk he used with my pets that brought visions of The Hand that Rocks the Cradle but with a frumpy asthmatic wacko nanny and a sexy, attractive parent (me! That's me!)
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