~Scuba_Steve~
Contributor
This is a true story written by my faithfull Dive Buddy Bob Davis aka The Bottomdweller, I would be Scuba Steve of course. We were at Fantasy Lake in NC if you ever get into the area check out this awsome dive site.
It all began innocently enough
Ramiro, my faithful compadre, friend and driver set us off on a course to find the Seaduction Dive shop located a few miles outside of Ft. Bragg. We were following directions given to us by an obviously retarded, if not deranged student from our BCS3 Users Course. After nearly an hour of travel we discovered that we had traveled a mere seven miles from Ft. Bragg!
Eventually, we did in fact locate the Seaduction Dive Shop so I could purchase the much needed Levels 6-10 dive logs as I had about 25 dives on yellow stickies!
Meanwhile, Scuba Steve (aka Dirt Bag Biker), being extremely frustrated, called and asked if we were still coming. (Scuba Steve had driven three hours to meet us!) Ramiro, being the friend he is (aka Pain in the @#@##) kept bugging and teasing me in an effort to cheer me up.
Finally we met up with Scuba Steve and sat down to have a scrumptious dinner at the local Mexican Restaurant. After dinner, Scuba Steve and I went to check into the Super 8 Motel. The place looked like crap, we should have known better, but being on a limited budget we went on in. The front desk clerk was a real geek, kept chatting us up (maybe he likes Dirt Bag Bikers?) telling us that he could have given the room cheaper if we had not used Cheap Hotels.com (By the way, that site is a rip off!) On the way up to the room we had to walk past a drunken bum sprawled out in the hallway near the soda machine. Hmmmm Upon entry to the blast furnace (aka our room), we discovered there was no TV remote. The missing remote was a sign of things to come!
After dropping off our stuff in the smelting room we continued on to the dive site. After our nine dive extravaganza Scuba Steve and the bottom dweller went back to the Super 8 to get some rest as we were exhausted from diving. Scuba Steve pulled back the comforter on his bed to reveal dingy wrinkled sheets that looked to have been left over from the previous occupants! Ripping the comforter back on my bed brought into view some very suspect hairs on my pillows. Disgusted, I sat up and in the process scraped my ankle on a metal bar protruding from the bottom of the bed! In significant pain, I sat on the edge of the bed with blood spurting from said ankle while Scuba Steve rolled around in his stinky sheets laughing his @#@# off! I commented that this really sucked! Scuba Steve picked up the handset of the circa 1970s phone only to find a distinct lack of cordage! There was no cord to connect the handset to the phone! Thinking quickly I stopped applying direct pressure to my profusely bleeding ankle and grabbed my cell phone. After dialing the 1-800-800-8000 number in an attempt to reach the front desk to explain the situation I discovered I had been given the number to the wrong Super 8! After finally getting the correct number I spoke to the manager and related the entire sequence of events. The sheer lunacy of the situation overcame me and I had to struggle to contain the laughter that wanted to burst from my lips. Weak with blood loss I listened as the manager kept repeating: There is no cord on the handset? How can you be talking to me if there is no cord on the handset? Scuba Steve being the gentleman he is, yelled Hes using a cell phone you jack@#@@!! Now, you would think the manager would try to make things right, and at least offer to call an ambulance since I had been hurt, but no, that did not happen! (I really wasnt bleeding that badly but it makes the story better huh?)
After hanging up with the manager I called my wife to tell her I loved her and I was sorry I would not be coming home as my leg was turning gangrenous and would probably die before morning. After saying hi, I completely lost control and gales of laughter erupted from my lips! I hung up, waited a couple of minutes and tried to speak to her .again I had to hang up, giddy from blood loss and exhaustion I just could not get control of myself! Finally, sides hurting from all the laughing I managed to speak to her and tell her of our adventures.
In the morning, I was awakened by the sound of a drunken person yelling in the hallway. Poking my head outside the door I see a 49 Mexican man stumbling up and down the hallway. I asked to please be quiet as it was 0600 in the morning. Now I am 61, 230 pounds, Scuba Steve is like 65 and 400 pounds. So this midget yells at me saying he is going to beat my @#@#! I laughed and said ok, as long as you shut up first. His buddy seeing that his friend was on the verge of getting his head caved in did his best to get control of the guy. Once Scuba Steve stepped out of the room the guys face turned white and decided the inside of his room would be a much safer place to be.
On the way to check out, Scuba Steve stepped in a puddle of puke in the elevator! I almost blew chunks! The front desk person was absolutely unsympathetic and simply checked us out and sent us on our way! And so ended the Great Super 8 Debacle!
The Great Super 8 Debacle
Written by
The Bottomdweller
Written by
The Bottomdweller
It all began innocently enough
Ramiro, my faithful compadre, friend and driver set us off on a course to find the Seaduction Dive shop located a few miles outside of Ft. Bragg. We were following directions given to us by an obviously retarded, if not deranged student from our BCS3 Users Course. After nearly an hour of travel we discovered that we had traveled a mere seven miles from Ft. Bragg!
Eventually, we did in fact locate the Seaduction Dive Shop so I could purchase the much needed Levels 6-10 dive logs as I had about 25 dives on yellow stickies!
Meanwhile, Scuba Steve (aka Dirt Bag Biker), being extremely frustrated, called and asked if we were still coming. (Scuba Steve had driven three hours to meet us!) Ramiro, being the friend he is (aka Pain in the @#@##) kept bugging and teasing me in an effort to cheer me up.
Finally we met up with Scuba Steve and sat down to have a scrumptious dinner at the local Mexican Restaurant. After dinner, Scuba Steve and I went to check into the Super 8 Motel. The place looked like crap, we should have known better, but being on a limited budget we went on in. The front desk clerk was a real geek, kept chatting us up (maybe he likes Dirt Bag Bikers?) telling us that he could have given the room cheaper if we had not used Cheap Hotels.com (By the way, that site is a rip off!) On the way up to the room we had to walk past a drunken bum sprawled out in the hallway near the soda machine. Hmmmm Upon entry to the blast furnace (aka our room), we discovered there was no TV remote. The missing remote was a sign of things to come!
After dropping off our stuff in the smelting room we continued on to the dive site. After our nine dive extravaganza Scuba Steve and the bottom dweller went back to the Super 8 to get some rest as we were exhausted from diving. Scuba Steve pulled back the comforter on his bed to reveal dingy wrinkled sheets that looked to have been left over from the previous occupants! Ripping the comforter back on my bed brought into view some very suspect hairs on my pillows. Disgusted, I sat up and in the process scraped my ankle on a metal bar protruding from the bottom of the bed! In significant pain, I sat on the edge of the bed with blood spurting from said ankle while Scuba Steve rolled around in his stinky sheets laughing his @#@# off! I commented that this really sucked! Scuba Steve picked up the handset of the circa 1970s phone only to find a distinct lack of cordage! There was no cord to connect the handset to the phone! Thinking quickly I stopped applying direct pressure to my profusely bleeding ankle and grabbed my cell phone. After dialing the 1-800-800-8000 number in an attempt to reach the front desk to explain the situation I discovered I had been given the number to the wrong Super 8! After finally getting the correct number I spoke to the manager and related the entire sequence of events. The sheer lunacy of the situation overcame me and I had to struggle to contain the laughter that wanted to burst from my lips. Weak with blood loss I listened as the manager kept repeating: There is no cord on the handset? How can you be talking to me if there is no cord on the handset? Scuba Steve being the gentleman he is, yelled Hes using a cell phone you jack@#@@!! Now, you would think the manager would try to make things right, and at least offer to call an ambulance since I had been hurt, but no, that did not happen! (I really wasnt bleeding that badly but it makes the story better huh?)
After hanging up with the manager I called my wife to tell her I loved her and I was sorry I would not be coming home as my leg was turning gangrenous and would probably die before morning. After saying hi, I completely lost control and gales of laughter erupted from my lips! I hung up, waited a couple of minutes and tried to speak to her .again I had to hang up, giddy from blood loss and exhaustion I just could not get control of myself! Finally, sides hurting from all the laughing I managed to speak to her and tell her of our adventures.
In the morning, I was awakened by the sound of a drunken person yelling in the hallway. Poking my head outside the door I see a 49 Mexican man stumbling up and down the hallway. I asked to please be quiet as it was 0600 in the morning. Now I am 61, 230 pounds, Scuba Steve is like 65 and 400 pounds. So this midget yells at me saying he is going to beat my @#@#! I laughed and said ok, as long as you shut up first. His buddy seeing that his friend was on the verge of getting his head caved in did his best to get control of the guy. Once Scuba Steve stepped out of the room the guys face turned white and decided the inside of his room would be a much safer place to be.
On the way to check out, Scuba Steve stepped in a puddle of puke in the elevator! I almost blew chunks! The front desk person was absolutely unsympathetic and simply checked us out and sent us on our way! And so ended the Great Super 8 Debacle!
