Complimentary happy hour

"Please visit the restaurant for our daily happy hour, which offers complimentary snack food and alcoholic beverages between 17:30 and 19:00" it says in the hotel welcome card. Hmmm... Free drink and free food? Mr ambassador, you are spoiling us!

I walk down beside the pool. It's 30 degrees outside, I have already spotted a Tera Patrick lookalike MILF, and I haven't even had a drink yet! They are offering nachos and some other shite, but nachos will do fine. I get a plate full of tortillas, salsa, and jallipinos then head for the squirty hot cheese machine. Oh baby.

Food is done, it's time to get my drink on. There's a bird with two machines behind her which are squirting out piss warm beer into plastic cups. No thanks. I spy a bottle of red wine which is as yet unopened. I ask her to crank it open and a plastic cup of some decent enough red is mine. Nachos eaten and wine guzzled, it's time for more. I realise that other guests have been tipping the barmaid a buck per drink just for her effort. She's black and looks a bit like that stupid one off The Apprentice who offered an account manager for washing your pants for my liking, but I feel the guilt kicking in.

I take one more free cup of wine, and gulp that down too. People are noticing that I don't have food this time, and I'm just drinking free wine. They are all rednecks and are like pigs in shit with their piss warm chango. I'm not. I head back up to my room for some single notes. Do I head down, knowing full well the entire place knows I've already left? Hell yeah, I'm there!

I head down and tip the girl two dolla for the guilt and ask her for another free wine. I head back to my table which hasn't yet been cleared and sit there like I'm still eating. I get some ice cream but don't eat it. Just to make it look like there's still unfinished business on my table, but it's the wine I'm interested in. I gulp that glass then head back. I walk up and she asks "red wine, sir?" hell yeah, get that shit poured, bitch! But I can't go back now. I have a nacho cheese stain on my shirt, and a face that is soon to collapse.

So I head back to my room, to a flashing telephone, which means I have voicemail. To be continued...