Them
Growing up, the old movie "them" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047573/) was a big thing in the house. The classic joke all the grown ups would say is that if we were in the movie, there'd be no "them".
I guess you had to be there.
No, actually you didn't. I never got it either.
But I couldn't help but think of that movie today.
So my family, still not sure what to do with me, sends me up to some ass end of nowhere place in Maine: Hog Island. Hog, freakin', Island. I have to wonder, if I were ever born in a place called "Hog Island", why would I ever stay?
But stay these people did, and apparently they have this huge ant problem, so some rinky dink branch office calls corporate, and corporate, being made mostly of my family, decides to not expend its usual resources, and sends me to see what's going on.
They fly me to the closest major airport, which was in Rhode Island, give me a truck (the kind we make our house calls with), and tell me to drive it up to Hog Island. Oh god, I don't even get a rental car.
So after about 5, 6, 7 (?) states, hours, and meals involving maple something or lobster something, I pull in to the Jackman Hotel. I see a man with a mullet talking on the phone when I enter the lobby.
"Excuse me, sir?"
The hopelessly bad hair tilts up in response, revealing a woman's face. Her eyes don't really care that they see me, and she's chewing something with slow, unconcious, single movements. After a nice long awkward silence, she asks me, "You need a room?"
"Yes, sirr-ree" I say, badly covering the fact that I almost called her "sir" again.
She shrugs, snorts, and searches both the desk and boredom for keys and paperwork. I fill out everything silently, choose the largest room, and charge it to corporate. If they're going to send me here, they may as well put me in the suite.
Or in this case, the room with satelite TV. I turn on the TV and land face first in the matress. Some Conadian channel has this fake news report about a giant Ant invasion. It is just stupid what passes for entertainment in some places.
I guess you had to be there.
No, actually you didn't. I never got it either.
But I couldn't help but think of that movie today.
So my family, still not sure what to do with me, sends me up to some ass end of nowhere place in Maine: Hog Island. Hog, freakin', Island. I have to wonder, if I were ever born in a place called "Hog Island", why would I ever stay?
But stay these people did, and apparently they have this huge ant problem, so some rinky dink branch office calls corporate, and corporate, being made mostly of my family, decides to not expend its usual resources, and sends me to see what's going on.
They fly me to the closest major airport, which was in Rhode Island, give me a truck (the kind we make our house calls with), and tell me to drive it up to Hog Island. Oh god, I don't even get a rental car.
So after about 5, 6, 7 (?) states, hours, and meals involving maple something or lobster something, I pull in to the Jackman Hotel. I see a man with a mullet talking on the phone when I enter the lobby.
"Excuse me, sir?"
The hopelessly bad hair tilts up in response, revealing a woman's face. Her eyes don't really care that they see me, and she's chewing something with slow, unconcious, single movements. After a nice long awkward silence, she asks me, "You need a room?"
"Yes, sirr-ree" I say, badly covering the fact that I almost called her "sir" again.
She shrugs, snorts, and searches both the desk and boredom for keys and paperwork. I fill out everything silently, choose the largest room, and charge it to corporate. If they're going to send me here, they may as well put me in the suite.
Or in this case, the room with satelite TV. I turn on the TV and land face first in the matress. Some Conadian channel has this fake news report about a giant Ant invasion. It is just stupid what passes for entertainment in some places.
posted by Max Orkin at 1:16 AM
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