The Great White North Infested by Slick Indians

I arrived pretty well on schedule at Toronto airport, called up the hotel, and a guy came to get me in their shuttle bus. Got checked in by a hot young Indian babe, very nice girl, got my room, and went upstairs only to find it was a dreaded connecting room and the idiot on the other side appeared to be hollering into his smell phone at the top of his lungs. Hmmmm.

Back downstairs, asked the babe if she has another room and she starts fiddling around. The place wasn't busy, nothing is in this economy, but I get the feeling she's not giving anything away, and sure enough she says she has something on the 5th (top) floor but the elevator isn't working today. She says it's only a few steps up there, it'll be very quiet, no problem, so off I go.

I go up to the 4th and get off, find the staircase, haul my overstuffed bag and slaptop upstairs, door locked. I go back down, all the way to the other end of the hotel, haul my crap up again, door locked. By this time I'm pretty lathered up as it is warm and very very humid, welcome to the Northeast.

Back down to the reception, ask the babe what's up and she says she sent someone else up there and they didn't return, so there must be a way. Wow, thanks! I go back up and hunt around and bump into some hot young pierced babe who also looks like she's wandering around. Thank God for her! She went and investigated for me so I wouldn't have to haul my stuff around and finally found a little stairwell leading upstairs to the 5th, bless her heart.

Now wandering around a hotel late at night with a middle-aged man at your tail would have spooked any young American babe, but this girl was more than happy to help. Reminded me how decent and normal Canadians are, they lack that paranoia and suspicion that I'm so used to south of the border.

Anyway, that was Indian number one of my trip. The next ones were even less impressive:

Next morning I hop on the shuttle again to go to my nearby rentacar place, which I had reserved and mapped out. I get there and there is some poker-faced Indian kid sitting there in a stuffy little office with signs for 3 different rentacar places on the wall. He says this is not Payless, I don't know where it is. Remember that please.

Phone up the hotel, dude comes again to fetch me, really nice guy, takes me to another location which turns out to be Payless. Another hot, slick young Indian babe greets me, then starts mumbling around. Pls wait a few minutes for your car sir. I wait, wait, then wait some more, about 45 minutes or so. I go back in and ask her, she insists the car will be here in a minute. There is also a dopey looking Indian kid there, of course in true Asian fashion you can see right away she is there to work and he is there to pick his nose.

While waiting outside, I catch a glimpse of a guy sitting in the office in the back, and IT'S THE POKER-FACED DUDE FROM THE OTHER LOCATION!! Remember? The one who says he doesn't know where Payless is located is sitting right in their office. Interesting.

Of course by this time I had concluded that they don't have cars, they have to go and get them (rent them??) from someone else. Hmmm. Finally, slick young hot Indian babe drives around front with my pony all set to go. She flashes her eyes at me and says there is 3/8 of a tank of gas in the car. Dummy nose-picker is standing there with a stupid look on his face. I jump in the car, very very late by now, and start to take off, then I notice that the gas is nearly empty. Then I remember that one of several customers I had chatted to while waiting had complained of having no gas in his car.

By now the babe has already taken off inside to handle other work, of course dummy nose-picker is standing there with a stupid grin on his face. I grab him and say, dude, there is almost no gas in this car, your buddy just told me it had 3/8 of a tank. The grin disappears instantly. I show him the gauge and he rips the paper out of my hand and changes the gas reading to 1/8.

That's when it all falls into place: when they receive cars they siphon out everything right down to 1/8 and use the 1/4 tank themselves or sell it. Then they write 3/8 on everyone's card when they depart. When the cars come back they have to be filled to 3/8, so they always get the 1/4 tank, get it?

You have to have your radar up, and, most important, know the rules: Number one rule is that everyone first generation Indian thinks he's smarter than you and that he can deceive you with his charm. Just like the old Shell Game, keep your eyes on the pea and forget everything else. Goes for women too, and they have the most beautiful eyes in the world and know their power, don't kid yourself LOL.

I guess I must be stuck somewhere in between being American and Canadian because I'm Canadian but my American "who's trying to screw me?" radar works just fine.