All generalizations are false, including this one.
He wandered past us, glancing our way even as he tried to hide it. We had his undivided attention.
The resort office was closed, that much I had learned by tugging on the door handle. Never mind the sign telling us we were two hours late. Saturday night - the first of our vacation trip to Florida. We were trying to check into our resort and the office was closed. Great.
A quick glance at the documents I'd received.... "Call in advance for late check in." Perfect. What happens when the flight is delayed, the rental car requires a shuttle and the obnoxious guy ahead of me in line is arguing over pennies? A phone call to the complex's main number, a voice mail message and there we sat.
The guy walked past us from the other direction, like a sentry walking his post. No shirt - he should have been wearing a shirt. Impressive girth, sagging features and two respectable scars - one a zipper from sternum to beltline, the other tracing backbone for a foot or more. "It's not the years, it's the mileage" said Indiana Jones. This guy'd been places. A lot of them.
Long, gray hair pulled into a pony tail, flowing to the middle of his back. He puffed on...is that an e-cigarette? And now, he's approaching the car. Get the--
"This is private property," the guy says to me through the millimeter I've opened my window. "You can't park here."
Now he's a meter reader. Where did he keep his ticket...oh, yuck. Maybe he should just waddle his fat ass off and mind his own business.
"It seems we're late getting here," I replied, successfully stuffing Sergeant Jim back where he belongs - in Colorado. "The office is closed, but we have a reservation."
Helpfully, the guy grabs the same brochure I'd already snagged. I let him know that. Tired, irritable. I just want to put my toes in the sand, not deal with some beat up relic of past biker glories.
"You got paperwork?"
And who the hell are you to ask?
"Yeah." I wave it at him.
Really, is this getting us anywhere?
I tell him and he wanders off. Thank God. Now I can concentrate on getting us out of this--
"Here." The guy hands me an envelope. "Enjoy your stay."
Didn't I feel like the biggest asshole.