Tuesday, September 16, 2003

Duck Hunt. The best damn game in the world. Now everyone can be a redneck in the comfort of their own blood-stained home.

Okay, so I just booked four round trip plane tickets to Europe. Toronto to Paris, then back to Toronto from London. I did this over the phone because, as some of you might know, calling for reservations would usually get you a better quote than if you were to order online.

While talking to the guy on the other line, I became painfully aware that he might be a real, live jailbird. I heard from somewhere (maybe it was Michael Moore) that airlines hire prisoners for reservation work. So while you're happily booking a trip to Europe, Hawaii or maybe even war-torn *Insert Yet Another Middle Eastern Country*, the guy on the other line can't even get out of his holding cell without tackling some guards and killing a puppy.

"Hi, is this Air Fly-Hi?"

"This is. How may I help you?"

"Well, I'd like make a reservation on the .. um .. just a sec."

"Okay ... do you mind calling back?"

"I'll only be a sec."

"You're taking awfully long ..."

"Goddamn it, motherfucker! I'm just asking my mama what she want! Calm the fuck down!"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ... come and ass-rape your children, set your baby's mama on fire, strangle you with a phone cord, then leave your body in a vacant whorehouse. My escape tunnel is almost complete ..."

"[pause] I'll call back."

No comments: