Ya gotta be careful...

…what you say these days.

A few weeks back I was staying in a hotel, something I don’t do much of anymore. Here’s the routine when I go to my room: I throw the suitcase on the bed, hang up the dress shirts and suits, open the drapes, and grab the ice bucket.

They don’t always put ice machines on every floor anymore. And I’m not real keen on those flimsy plastic bags they use as ice bucket liners.

So, I walk out into the hall with my ice bucket in hand and I see two maids and a supervisor down the hall. I call out, “Ice?”, and they all run for the exit. What’d I say?

That night I was in the restaurant at the hotel and they served my soft drink. I took a sip and it was warm. So I stood up and called across the crowded dining room, “Ice?”, as I pointed to my glass.

The busboys and the cooks scattered like flies.

Then there was the time I served some fruit punch to the crew roofing my garage. I ran back in the house and fixed up a bowl of ice cubes. I walked out the back door, held up my tongs, and hollered, “Ice?”

Four workers jumped off the roof and ran away through the back yard.

I’ve learned that you have to be careful. I’ve also stopped wearing my blue windbreaker.

(For you literal thinkers out there –you know who you are- this is my feeble attempt at creative writing. Label this work fiction.)