hotels – aMediocreMan

Golf course hotel

Another hotel for work. I stay here a couple times each month. It has a golf course and small convention center.

It’s the same freak show every time. Fat, white golfers with their pasty cheeks toasted by the south Florida sun, come in for drinks after chasing a ball around for five hours.

A mix of business men sitting at bar tables, intently focused on their laptops, checking stocks, because these rich assholes can actually afford to own stocks. Always rude to the bartenders and staff for no reason other than to satisfy their inflated egos.

Rarely, if ever, does a woman show up. I don’t blame the women though. When they do come to the bar, every guy is trying to be cooler than they actually are because their wives are far, far away. While at the hotel on for business, they dream of strange, anonymous pussy, but rarely seal the deal.

Business man next to me at the bar wearing a fancy jacket, cuff links- yes, fucking cuff links, apple air buds in, making calls, speaking loudly so everyone knows how important he at least thinks he is. Holy fuck, I don’t dress that nice for a wedding or funeral, but thankfully he does.

He ordered a Stella draft and that’s shit beer, so that confirms he’s a fucking fraud. He’s damn good looking and fit, but would probably fuck himself first because no woman could ever be as hot as he thinks he is.

I wish I could Dexter this guy; lay out the plastic, put the tranquilizer in his neck and drain his blood because he’s doing nothing positive for this world. He probably has a huge cock too, that’s usually how it works.

“I’m a salad guy,” he said to the waitress as his cuff links shimmered from the bar lights above.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I walked outside, smoked some weed and went to bed.

(Related Posts: Another Hotel Bar; Another Florida Hotel Bar; Beach Bar)

another Florida hotel bar

bar woman Another hotel and another hotel bar in Florida.

An older lady, mildly attractive wearing a beige pant suit ordered a beer and burger from the bistro. Her perfume was too strong. It reminded me of opening a Cosmopolitan magazine when I was a kid. The fragrance ads were always out of control, but I kept looking because the models were sexy.

The 20-something girl working the counter politely told her it would be ready soon. She appeared older than she was; hair somewhat disheveled and wrinkles were already creeping in around the lower part of her eyes. Continue reading “another Florida hotel bar”

douche flute in cuff links

“I’m a salad kind of guy,” he said as the waitress looked away in disdain. Understandable disdain from her considering this was a sports bar, not Tavern on the fucking Green.

He wore tight designer jeans, way too expensive shoes, a royal blue blazer and diamond-studded cuff links that were protruding aggressively outward so everyone could see. He was fit, had great skin and tight cropped hair, almost military hair. And yes, his teeth were fucking perfect too.

He had wireless iPod ear buds, so it was nearly impossible to tell if he was speaking with someone in real life or someone from his contact list. A contact list full of hundreds of people who aren’t his friends, but just people who somehow make him money.

He continued to engage the waitress. “Do you have any healthier options.” In an increasingly strained tone, she apologized and said that was the only menu they had. I could feel her hatred growing and I understood it. Everyone at the bar understood it.

He ordered a grilled chicken salad with balsamic dressing on the side and a Stella draft.

As if I didn’t already know, his beer order solidified the fraud. Someone who dresses like him should never drink a Stella. Stella is just a fancier version of Coors Light. What a cunt. Continue reading “douche flute in cuff links”