Mountain mama.

24 Nov

The woman leading this tour from West Virginia has such big hair that I wouldn’t say she teases it as much as she bullies the gravity right out of it. Full feet of hair in every direction off her far-too painted head, she reminds me of a bad actress in a regional production of Oil City Symphony. Because she brought her pageant-princess daughter along, a young girl I despise, and I love children but her sense of entitlement is breathtaking, a sense that derives from what exactly in West Virginia is beyond me, perhaps the horse has learned not to shit on the kitchen floor, Mom made this request as I boarded their bus this morning:

“The people told me they want more free time today.”

Bullshit.

I gave an extraordinary tour yesterday to forty people who are so old that the twenty-five yard walk to their restaurant last night ended in gasps, tears, and the deafening sound of cracking bones. These people want to wander around NYC on their own all day? Please. Laiklyn (yes Laiklyn) wants a fucking new doll.

I was only disappointed because I like my job and I was looking forward to bringing them to Central Park and Lincoln Center and St. John the Divine. My disappointment lasted twelve seconds.

I dumped the whole lot of them in Rockefeller Center at 10AM with the cheery instruction, “See you back here at Four!”

I get paid the same.

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