Last night, at the front desk of the hotel where my family and I are taking our annual winter weekend away, something really, well, stupid happened.

Louis and I had a hankering for some skeeball, so we approached the front desk to ask if there were any video arcades around. The woman helping us had no idea and referred us to the gentleman to her right. He was busy giving directions to striking woman in gladiator sandals. When I say “striking” I am referring to the fact that it was difficult not to stare at her. At first glance, in the dim lighting, she could easily be defined as a “hottie.” Tan, stacked, tall, well dressed- the whole deal. Upon further inspection, however, it became clearer that she was hot in much the same way that a Barbie doll is. Her skin gave off an orange-ish cast, her bosoms were certainly not home-grown, and her height was the result of seven-inch “gladiator” heels. (Her dress was still pretty killer.)

I’ll wait for all you men to calm down before I continue.

…

…

Right. We’ve lost the men. Here we go anyway.

In short, this woman was trying far too hard to impress. It got worse as soon as she heard what we were asking about. “Is there a good arcade around here?” Louie and I asked.

“Siiiiick!” said Ms. Plastic. “I love that stuff!” (She used an alternate word for “stuff,” but you nice folks don’t need to be exposed to her potty mouth.)

I smiled at her politely, and waited for the concierge’s response. Ms. Plastic giggled, and continued: “Seriously! I play video games all. the. time.” She was making us uncomfortable, speaking as though we were interviewing her for the last available six-figure gig at our We Like Video Games corporation.

The concierge was answering our question, but I had no idea what he was saying, so fervent was the young woman’s prattle. She was not looking at me- she was focusing on my little brother. “World of Warcraft!” she shouted triumphantly at him, proving that she knew about video games. “Ever play that?” Louie shook his head. “Oh man! So fun. I’m actually still a noob right now. Do you know what those are?” I looked down at the floor, embarrassed for her.

“Yeah. I do,” said Louie, maintaining a remarkable amount of grace. His response didn’t phase her, though, and she went on to explain what a “noob” is.

She must have felt his already feigned interest waning, because she interrupted herself to ask flirtatiously, “So you won’t play World of Warcraft with me? I play in my mom’s basement, with a headset and I’m all like ‘Go, mother f*#@%*!!!'” She giggled again, and continued to talk.

I knew her game. See, there are some fellows who are into video games and Star Wars and circuitry and what have you. And those fellows are lovingly referred to as nerds. Nerds are great fun, and terrific people. My brother is also great fun and a terrific person, but he is less a video game/Star Wars/circuity nerd, and more of a music nerd. Ms. Plastic mistook him for the former, and was doing her best to convince him that she was one too. Why? Probably because she wanted him to do the hot+nerd=desirable equation and flirt back. This would allow her to get a couple of minutes of self esteem boostage before she went out on the town and sloppily made out with a gin-soaked football player.

Here is what happened instead: Louie, somehow, politely extracted himself from the orange-tinted nonsense and joined me on the other side of the lobby. (I had walked off earlier because I had found that my brain doesn’t have enough RAM to handle a full-scale Drivel Assault.) We exchanged looks- his a goofy smirk, and mine a wide-eyed “WTF” sort of thing- and both said “Whoa.” Then we analyzed what had happened. I’d love to think it was my sisterly influence, but Louie can see through BS like no other guy I’ve ever met. “She was trying waaaay too hard.” Atta boy, brother!

Over all, Louie (and I) walked away annoyed, unimpressed, and wondering why admitting that she still used her mom’s basement as a hangout would be a selling point. And we still had no idea where to play skeeball.

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