MtH # 19 Rama Bama

Hi everyone

I’m going to have to start calling this “MtH Weekly Maybe”. Or how about “MtH Weakly”? If I apologize everytime I miss a week or two, its going to get old fast. So I won’t.

April, albeit early april, and I’m driving north from Toronto in one of those nighttime snowstorms that seem to come right at you. Even when you change direction slightly, millions of starry pin pricks are still doing a horizontal header with the windshield.

Clicking on my brights makes it worse. The light is defused in a funny way and I start to see my grizzled old reflection doing an Edvard Munch “Scream” with every moronic truck driver that elects to pass me burying my Ford Escape in a Tsunami of brown salty slush.

My poor little SUV that just a week ago suffered the indignity of being stolen right out of my driveway and used in some heinous crime. God knows what unspeakable violations it endured; it was found with used syringes and other drug paraphernalia strewn about the interior, abandoned still running, all doors wide open, after a called-off  police pursuit. But that’s a story for a future post.

A trip to the eastern shore of Lake Coooo-che-ching that usually takes less than two hours was stretched into a four hour plus  endurance test.

Finally I pulled into the familiar Disneyesque landscape of Rama Ding Dong (check this out!!!!!) in the middle of farking nowhere. And I do mean nowhere.

After you get off the main highway near Orillia you have 15 K of two lane B grade road and then a final 5 kilometres of completely unlit, use at own risk, rutted farmer’s lane even before you get to the first of two portages, the self-serve steam hoist and the dog sled.

Of course I’m kidding, there was no dog sled.     To be continued  (in just a few hours…….its 1pm Saturday the 15th and I’m taking a break.

Back again. Just a few short hours. 
I can hear your thoughts.
“That wasn’t no stinkin’ few hours. That was half a day”.
Sue me.
Hmmm, I’ve fallen into a mood. Testy, ticked, peeved and petulant. Whatever could have happened? Never mind, let’s return to Rama Bama Ding Dong on the shores of lovely Coo Ca-Ching.
I love this place. It has the best showroom of any casino I’ve ever worked at. There’s one similar to it in Windsor but we won’t talk about that dog house right now. Maybe in a future post when I’m not so cranky. 
The people at Rama are so nice. I suppose because they are small town people for the most part, staffed by residents of nearby Orillia. Folks who haven’t become bitter by living elbow to asshole with five million other people all of whom seem to be puffed up with the same sense of entitlement. 
Nice, are the Ramanians. Good hearted Ramabambies. 
“Hey! You can’t park there. Get moving! That’s only for Hotel guests to quickly check in”
“It’s after midnight, there’s a snowstorm and I’m just dropping off my stuff”
“You’re blocking traffic!”
“There’s nobody here! I’ll bet there hasn’t been anyone here for the last hour. And there won’t be anyone    here for the next six hours. It’s a blizzard goddamn it. I’m the only one stupid enough to drive in it.”
“Okay. Just be quick”
Twenty minutes later after piling my luggage, two computer bags and two bulky keyboards that were in cases that were twice as big as necessary (don’t ask…….part of the fall-out from the previously described stolen vehicle caper) and parking what seemed like a mile away, I was checking in at the front desk and here is part of the conversation that ensued:
“I’ll need a credit card for all your incidental charges”.
“There’s already a company card on file”
“No there isn’t”
“Yes there is”
“No sir, there isn’t”
This could have carried on all night in infinite regress but for my spineless acceptance and plaintive lamb-like bleats of apology……………YEA SURE.
“Just what are these ‘incidentals’ I won’t be allowed to have if I don’t give you my card?”
“No drinks, no room service, no rubber chicken like you ordered to your room last time.”
“Huh?” my thoughts  spinning…….”WTF, rubber chicken? What the hell could someone want with a rubber chicken…. OOPS…………”
My mind was travelling back thirty years, spiralling through a time vortex. I was standing off stage watching our opening act, comedian Gary Muledeer, do a bit about weird sexual proclivities vis-a-vis Las Vegas and its full service hotels.

“You can even get one of these” he said, pointing to a rubber chicken that was impaled on a microphone stand ” brought up to your room” 

With that he grabbed the fake bird and attempted to throw it off to the side of the stage where I was standing. I ducked, but didn’t need to as it landed on my piano………..
“Did you say rubber chicken?” I asked the clerk as I zapped back to the present.
“What? No, I said if you’re hungry you’ll have to do a runner to the kitchen. We won’t send it to your room. Not without a credit card.” 
To be continued………..