Why I Love My Dad

Last night my dad called and wanted me to help him look up some hotels in Las Vegas. He and Jeanette leave Tucson on Monday and are heading to the Grand Canyon for a few days, then on to Vegas. He had tried calling information and the chamber of commerce, but got frusterated by the automated phone system and gave up. After a quick search we decided on The Sahara. I offered to just make the reservation online, since the nightly rate is typically higher if you call the reservation desk. Well, my dad isn’t a true believer in the power of the Internet, and said he would just give them a call. I gave him the toll free number, we said goodbye, and hung up. Two minutes later my phone rings again. Its my dad, who claims that I gave him the wrong number because instead of the Sahara reservation desk, a phone sex line had been on the other end. Turns out my hard of hearing father had transposed a few numbers. Yeah, that’s my dad.

Oh, and I was right, the price they wanted to charge him over the phone was about double that of the internet rate, so we ended up doing it online anyway.