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If It’s Laughter You’re After


Pokin’ Fun by Doc Blakely

Checking into hotels is something that has been a part of my professional life for over four decades now so I am rarely surprised by anything I see or hear at the front desk. The most common things I hear are, “We have no record of you. Did you have reservations?” I usually flash a big smile and say, “Yes, but I think I’ll stay here anyway.”
Then I explain that I’m a speaker for the meeting that is being held here. One time an attendant, a young lady wearing the name tag “Shirley”, said, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience sir. We had you filed under Speaker. Now Mr. Speaker could I have your name?” I replied, “Well, that certainly would be a coincidence.”
Once we get my name straight and she finds the reservation she asks, “How would you like to pay for this?” I explain that it will go on the master account of the company that I am speaking for.
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Speaker you’ll have to see our credit manager to approve that.”
“My name is not Speaker, it is Blakely.”
“Do you know the penalty for theft identification, Mr. whatever your name is who does not have a room? We have a room for Mr. Speaker but you don’t expect me to give it up to Blakely, surely.”
“Don’t call me Shirley, that’s your name.”
Anyway, we laugh as she calls the credit manager with the push of one button and security with another. We share a few laughs, get it straightened out, and I get a police escort to my room. Not a bad life.
When I returned after a few days on the road I discovered there had been quite a commotion locally, which strengthens my philosophy that laughter can be found everywhere. Here’s what happened. A married couple, friends of mine, owned up to the chaotic event with good humor. I’ll call them Ferdinand and Frieda. Ferdinand loved to jump out from behind doors to scare Frieda who was spooked mightily by that sort of thing.
Frieda decided to take a nice bubble bath to unwind after a visit from the grandkids. The door was slightly open and Ferdinand could see her relaxed beneath the bubbles, a slice of cucumber over each closed eyelid. He put on a business suit, tie and a strikingly accurate rubber mask of Ronald Reagan. He burst through the door and uttered in a low baritone voice, “Win one for the Gipper, sweetheart!” The bathroom literally exploded with high pitched screams, bubbles, sponges, and cucumber slices. A neighbor called 911 and a SWAT team was there in minutes.
Ferdinand, suffered the only concussion in county records from a Plumber’s Friend, was charged with masquerading as a Republican, and persuaded to buy one ticket to the policeman’s ball.
One ticket? Yes, Frieda said she didn’t accompany dead ex-presidents, had a slipped disc and was a Democrat. www.docblakely.com