The Judgemental Pizza Delivery Man

I was in Santa Fe, New Mexico at a boring conference this week. It's something I sort of have to do for my job. The thing about Santa Fe is, while it's pretty, it's about an hour from anywhere, including the airport in Albequerque. So when I booked my flight at 7:30 am I knew I was going to be in for a rough day. I was hoping that I could sleep on the shuttle or maybe on the airplane.

The shuttle picked me up at 4:40. Well, before I tell you about my journey back, let me say that the hotel clerk was not the best to say the least. Earlier during my trip, I asked or directions and was told, "Just go out of our driveway and make a left." If I would have gone straight or right, I would have wound up closer to my destination, the St. Francis Auditorium. After wandering the streets of Santa Fe for 45 minutes and locating the New Mexico School for the Deaf, the historic train yard, and the Santa Fe Department of Corrections facility, I asked a policeman where the St. Francis Auditorium was. "I never heard of it," he said and walked away. I wandered up and down the street in downtown Santa Fe, past the spas, turquoise jewelry, and Native American art galleries, looking for a store that was open on a Friday morning (curiously many were closed). I finally found an open high end women's clothing store. Upon entering the saleswomen looked at me with befuddlement and utter disdain. How dare I enter her overpriced clothing boutique! "Can I help you?" she asked. I explained that I was looking for the St. Francis Auditorium. "Oh," she said. "That's inside the Museum of Fine Art" Something never explained by the conference host and obviously never visited by the policeman or anyone at the Department of Corrections. Eventually, I found my the conference, but the desk clerk already was not off to a good start.

The next two days, including the one where I was supposed to leave at 4;40, I asked for wakeup calls that never happened. I made it to the front desk at 4:30 and checked out. Stopping at the lobby computer, I went to check my email, before pausing to read the big sign. "Do not visit any appropriate sites." I clicked on the browser and typed the address to my email's website. I noticed there were already three windows minimized, to PORNORAMA and other related sites. I clicked my email window closed, trying to avoid touching the keys as little as possible.

Eventually, the van arrived. Finally I would be rid of the directionally challenged, call forgetting, porn surfing desk clerk! I entered the van and an 80 year old couple was sitting in the front seat. "Hello," the woman said and paused waiting for my response. I gave a pleasant reply, which was followed by a brief silence. That was the only ten seconds he didn't say anything to her husband on the 75 minute trip. The whole time I suffered listening to the woman's assessment of the jewelry shops and restaurants and cute little adobe houses, all I could think was how lucky I was. This poor bastard in the front row has had to live with this for fifty years. She never waited for a response. She just kept talking. When I bolted from the van, she was still talking and probably still is to this day.

Walking up to the check in, I figured, "Great. At least I can use the self check in how can that get screwed up?" While three of us waited in line, though, an sixty year old woman continually moved her bags between three stations. She didn't know how to use the self check in and was following the woman behind the counter as she moved from station to station. When the Asian man in front of me tried to sneak on to one of the stations she was patrolling, she snapped, "I'm using that." Leaving a bag in front of each station, she then had a fifteen minute conversation with the woman at the ticket counter. The two people in front of me were afraid to try and use one of the unoccupied station after her last confrontation.

After I checked in, I made it to the security lane. Here, the were testing the new improved security device, the new system which is going to replace the metal detector. It sort of looks like the transporter on Star Trek. When you go in, you raise your hands above your head and two metal bars sweep around you. With this new and improved technology, though, you have to take off your shoes, your belt, your hat ... oh and take out your wallet, and your can't have your boarding pass, or tissues in your pocket. Needless to say, the whole process slowed everything down. Even after I went through, a TSA guy patted me down. Great improvement in technology, huh?

After I boarded the plane, I thought, finally. Some sleep. About ten minutes into the fight, though, the flight attendants started the movie, Marley and Me. For those of you who haven;t seen it, I won't spoil it much. I'll just say there was a lot of "awww" ing and crying during the movie. So, much, that the woman sitting next to me hid her face because she didn't want anyone seeing her crying as much as she was. The four hour flight landed and after making it to Super Shuttle, I was ready for the ride home. The Super Shuttle guy decided he was going to put on his favorite CD, a guy singing Island music in French accompanied by a Casio keyboard. Every song during the 90 minute ride was exactly the same. I finally got home at around 1pm and although it was a nice day, I just wanted something to eat and to grab a little sleep.

I ordered a pizza from Domino's. I figured it won't be the best, but at least it won't be slow. 25 minutes passed, 35 minutes passed, 45 minutes. I called the store. "He left a while ago," They said. "He should be there any minute. Finally about ten minutes later, the pizza delivery man showed up at my door. A fifty year old Asian man, he looked me up and down as he gave me my order. "What are you doing ordering pizza? It's a nice day! You should be outside! What kind of person orders pizza?" I just blankly stared at him, too tired to say anything.

But after I shut the door, I thought to myself. "Shut up, Pizza man! After avoiding a desk clerk's porn, listening to an old woman babble for an hour, watching a plane full of people cry for three hours, and listening to possibly the worst CD ever recorded by man, I have to listen to advice from someone who's after fifty years on this earth delivering pizzas and you're judging me? It's my business if I want to stay inside on a nice day. I could be allergic to sunlight. How do you know why I'm staying inside? Maybe you just personally insulted me!"

Well, if I ever see him again, I'm going to ask him, "Why are you delivering pizzas? You have the brain capacity to work at a much better position in the food service industry, like Fuddruckers."