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  • Paul Davidson

My Crimes Are Not Obvious

I have committed a variety of crimes that I have never been caught for.

Part of me has kept these crimes inside for so long out of fear. For if the law enforcement authorities of Hawaii, California, New York, Florida, Seattle and Mexico were ever to be tipped off as to my current location, I may never enjoy the current freedom I have ever again.

But really, let’s be honest. Law enforcement authorities of the above forementioned territories do not read blogs on the Internet. Right? Exactly.

So I figured, since I don’t go to Church confessional, I would lay out my crimes here on my blog, in an attempt to make me feel better and so that I can move on with my life, starting fresh and anew. So, without further ado – my crimes.

(Drum roll please)

Hawaii: While staying at the Four Seasons Hotel on the island of Maui, I proceeded to sit in the bar and eat in excess of 14 bowls of wasabi flavored peanuts, while not ordering anything but a free water throughout my entire eating frenzy. (You’re supposed to order a drink if you’re gonna sit there and take up a table.) I got sick, though. Maybe that was my punishment.

California: I have, on many occasions, visited a certain Karaoke bar and sang and sang and sang without purchasing my two drink minimum. So that I wouldn’t get caught in such an illegal act, I have always jumped up in front of the crowd while someone else was singing if I ever caught wind of the waitress coming to ask me to order my two drinks. Then, I simply danced or joined in with the person up on stage. That way, no matter what, the waitress could never ask me the question she so desperately wanted to ask. I did, however, get sore the next day from all my dancing. Maybe that was my punishment?

New York: I gave a cabbie, who ended up giving me whiplash and swinging the cab around in a full 360 degree spin while trying to avoid on-coming traffic, only a 10% tip instead of the 15% customary gratuity. Although illegal in some states, I felt this was a statement that needed to be made. On my trip to JFK right before going home, however, I got the same damn cabbie. Cost me, strangely, $20 more to get there than in the beginning. Punishment or revenge? Your choice.

Florida: At a 4:15pm early-bird dinner, I snuck in front of two eldery patrons, each with walkers, so that I could get to the raisin-toppings for my salad before they got there and slobbered all over them. I did, thankfully, and was successful in creating my “huge salad.” They, however, sat right next to me and sneezed all over my meal. Karma? Maybe. Sickening, sure. Punishment? Hell, yes.

Seattle: I purchased and ate some kind of dried fruit that had no taste and no nutritional value but was, according to the bag, “healthy”. The crime I did was to my body, which preferred the bathroom to twelve other rooms for the next two days. Punishment? Time served.

Mexico: Having met a girl at a bar during Spring Break, I spoke in a British accent convincing her that, indeed, I was from the UK. This persona, of course, had to be maintained for the next few days as I explained where I was born (Scotland), where I lived (near the Beatles hometown), what I ate (that fish and chips stuff) and what my family’s crest meant (“Seize the Daylight”). Success was mine, initially. That is, until she heard me speaking “dude-speak” to my friend at the bar. Embarassment, sure. Entertainment, you bet. Punishment? A whole pina colada on my head.

The moral of my crimes?

You can never get away with crimes that people don’t consider to be crimes.

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