AARPing the Artist

13 Nov

“Your name, sir?”  The front desk clerk at the Holiday Inn Express did not look up from his screen as he asked.

“Ruben Esquire.” Ruben responded. All was going well with Ruben’s holiday away from fame. So well that he began to feel a little neglected and added, “The artist.”

“I’m sorry, sir. What did you say?” The clerk did raise his eyes to Ruben this time and examined his face. A little thrill of excitement went through him. “Just like the first time I was recognized on the street,” he thought.

“I am Ruben Esquire, the artist.” Ruben bowed his head to graciously accept the praise he knew was coming.

“Oh. Okay. Cool. Would you like to use your senior citizen’s discount today?” The clerk was now looking back at his computer registration screen.

Ruben, feeling a bit more of his full forty years than he’d ever wanted said, “No. That’s okay.”

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