The boys of summer

If there's one faction of people less desirable than tourists, it's pseudo-celebrities.  Because these people have been relentlessly catered to by PAs and sleazy execs from E! and VH1, they feel the whole world will share the enthusiasm of their peons.

Wrong.

Let me just say that I don't watch a single second of reality TV.  Other than LOST and the occasional disgusting glimpse of Sarah "Karen Walker" Palin on CNN, I'm reluctant to watch anything labeled as "Must-See-TV."  So imagine my complete apathy when someone in my section told me he and his six hillbilly frat friends had just been on "America's Got Talent."

Of course every generic, F-list, talentless eye-sore must strive for subtlety, so he didn't come out and say it.  Instead, he asked (in a very thick and disturbing Southern accent). "Do y'all show any TV shows on your TV at the bar?"

"As opposed to showing...?"

"All y'all are showing is sports or the reporter people."

[By "reporter people," he meant MSNBC coverage of the Republican National Convention, where I imagine most of his family and fellow church-goers were salivating with their loaded weapons, Klan masks and fried chicken.]

"Is....there something you'd rather watch...on a bar TV?"

"Y'all ever show 'America's Got Talent?'"

"God I hope not."

"'Cause we were just awn it."

"Is everyone ready to order?"

I was immediately bombarded with menu questions, each one overshadowing the other with increasing stupidity.

"Can I get that fried?"

"Can I get more iced tea?"

"Y'ALL GOT KAY-SO DIP?"

"Can I get more Cherry Coke?"

"Do those chicken incha-ladias got lotsa chicken?"

"Can I get more lemonade?"

"How many tacos come on the dos tacos plate?"

By the end of the order, my head nearly exploded.  I hadn't been subjected to such testosterone-laden ignorance since being forced to attend a Christian youth sports camp in rural Missouri.  

Of course, once the food arrived, no one remembered what they ordered (or, at the very least, couldn't connect the simple Spanish translations with the plates in front of them).  

"I ORDERED THE KAY-SO QUESADILLA!  ALL Y'ALL PUT IN HERE IS CHEESE!"

"Y'all messed up, this burrito ain't even fried!"

"I thought catfish came on the fish tacos?"

I pretended to take their entrees back to the kitchen and fix them.  Instead, I set the plates down at the expo line, texted the few friends who would actually watch "America's Got Talent," vented, and took the exact same plates back.  

The Confederate cavemen didn't seem to notice (and if they did, it didn't matter.  I didn't go back to their table until they waived their 13-star flags in the air to let me know they were ready for the bill).  

My math was a little off, because I could have *sworn* their party had eight people, thus gratuity was included.  At least I saved myself from a bad tip, the one cliche I was able to avoid with my latest dose of reality TV "stars."

Comments

[Jet]

Ah! To have found this gem lurking amidst the older posts: "...I imagine most of his family and fellow church-goers were salivating with their loaded weapons, Klan masks and fried chicken." AH-HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Brilliantly sinister! I love it!

[Jessica]

I think I was too Catholic to go to Kanakuk. Is that where my classmates learned to pair Cole Haans with tube socks? Always a good look.

By the way, Chase, did I ever tell you how much I love you? Because I love you.

[Bitter Waiter]

Jessica, I always give Republicans the benefit of the doubt...until I see what they order.

Julie -- YES, Kanakuk! My parents made me go three summers in a row. Thank God I only had to go to the two-week terms. I would have killed people in the dining hall if I'd had to stay for a month.

[Jessica Sigmon]

That was brilliant. Although, not all republicans are the same. Some of us don't even like chicken.

[Julie Hewett]

Did you go to Kanakuk? I was forced to endure that as well. Three summers of my life wasted on good old fashioned Christian guilt! :)