So ... the other night, yours truly came perilously close to getting himself into real trouble. I got into a heated disagreement with certain hotel staff, lost my temper in public for the first time in ages, and it was looking pretty bad except a few new friends showed up at the right moment and kept me from doing something foolish.
I had taken pictures of three separate species of the Beetle family in my hotel room. I naturally assumed the hotel staff would want to know of the failure of their pest prevention services. So I went to the front desk to show them the pictures of the aforementioned six-legged miscreants.
You can imagine my shock and dismay at the staff's utter indifference to the proof of the dismal failure of their pest prevention services.
I will admit that I got loud. And angry. And that there is a peculiar quirk to my personality: that while I will scream like a frightened little girl at the sight of six-legged insects; I am 100% A-OK with eight-legged insects! Maybe because spiders aren't actually classified as insects? They are, truly, classified as animals. No fooling! Whatever, I'm ok with spiders, but freak out at roaches.
So I tell the staff at the front desk: " Ok, tell you what: I'll go and find a handful of Wolf spiders, set them loose in my room, and let them deal with the pest problem in my room; how's that sound?" Because you can find them almost everywhere, almost any time of year. Big, mean, evil-looking bastards that look like something the demons threw out of Hell because they were too scary. But to humans? totally harmless, non- venomous. Bug-killing machines, though!
That _did_ get the idiot man-bun 20-something behind the desk's attention. He said he would call the cops, if I did. I said something like, hey, if you're going to call the cops, let's give them a real reason to make the trip out here, then.
It was at this point, as I was about to see if my 58-year old self could still vault over a hotel front desk, when my three new pals showed up. They talked some sense into me. We got a bit drunk, told stories and laughed, all in the lobby of the same miserable hotel. Oddly, That seemed to bother man-bun a lot more than if I had succeeded in having a physical altercation with him.
Checked out he next morning. No police involvement. And the hotel staff did not try and raise a stink about me leaving early. They just said, "Thank you," and, "Good-bye."
Moral of the story: you can't go wrong with Wolf spiders.
Sent from my iPad using the svtperformance.com mobile app
I had taken pictures of three separate species of the Beetle family in my hotel room. I naturally assumed the hotel staff would want to know of the failure of their pest prevention services. So I went to the front desk to show them the pictures of the aforementioned six-legged miscreants.
You can imagine my shock and dismay at the staff's utter indifference to the proof of the dismal failure of their pest prevention services.
I will admit that I got loud. And angry. And that there is a peculiar quirk to my personality: that while I will scream like a frightened little girl at the sight of six-legged insects; I am 100% A-OK with eight-legged insects! Maybe because spiders aren't actually classified as insects? They are, truly, classified as animals. No fooling! Whatever, I'm ok with spiders, but freak out at roaches.
So I tell the staff at the front desk: " Ok, tell you what: I'll go and find a handful of Wolf spiders, set them loose in my room, and let them deal with the pest problem in my room; how's that sound?" Because you can find them almost everywhere, almost any time of year. Big, mean, evil-looking bastards that look like something the demons threw out of Hell because they were too scary. But to humans? totally harmless, non- venomous. Bug-killing machines, though!
That _did_ get the idiot man-bun 20-something behind the desk's attention. He said he would call the cops, if I did. I said something like, hey, if you're going to call the cops, let's give them a real reason to make the trip out here, then.
It was at this point, as I was about to see if my 58-year old self could still vault over a hotel front desk, when my three new pals showed up. They talked some sense into me. We got a bit drunk, told stories and laughed, all in the lobby of the same miserable hotel. Oddly, That seemed to bother man-bun a lot more than if I had succeeded in having a physical altercation with him.
Checked out he next morning. No police involvement. And the hotel staff did not try and raise a stink about me leaving early. They just said, "Thank you," and, "Good-bye."
Moral of the story: you can't go wrong with Wolf spiders.
Sent from my iPad using the svtperformance.com mobile app