My dad's a funny guy, and he isn't always aware of just how funny he is. A few years ago, I visited him when he lived in Los Angeles. The night I arrived, we went to a restaurant and I drank so much wine I was more trashed then I had ever been in my life I think. I remember I had ahi tuna, and I remember it being really good, but then again I was really drunk. My dad was pretty drunk too, at least it seemed that he was, and we made plans to go to Universal Studios the next day.
He's an early morning kind of person. Really early morning, like up at 4 AM reading the paper and drinking coffee. You wouldn't believe the amount of times when I was a teenager I came home drunk and had to sneak back into the house. The dining room was situated between my bedroom and his bedroom, and you wouldn't believe the instant buzz kill it was to see my father up bright and early to meet another day head on. Anyway, the next morning, my father was up at 5 AM, quietly watching TV, trying to be patient while I slept on the fold out sofa in the living room. My first feeling accompanying consciousness was extreme nausea, and going to Universal Studios was the furthest thing from my mind. After about an hour of my father's fidgeting and pacing, I got out of bed and forced myself to get ready.
We arrived at a Denny's type of eatery called Cocoa's, a real greasy spoon standard fare type of inexpensive restaurant. I ordered eggs and potatoes, but I was so sick that I just picked at my dad's toast. Dad was chipper and very upbeat. After we left Cocoa's, we arrived at Universal Studios so early, they weren't open yet. We killed some time walking around a nearby store and restaurant attraction, and when it got close to 9 AM, we headed back to buy tickets to get into the theme park.
I don't remember how much tickets were, but I remember thinking that they didn't seem to be as much when I was younger. Since we were so early, there weren't any lines and we could walk right up to the window with the clerk in it. He paid for our tickets with a credit card, and as the clerk was processing his payment, she looked at his card, looked at him, and asked, "Bartholomew?"
My father's gaze met hers, and he replied, "Yes--or, Bart-tolo-may."
You have to say that one out loud and read it phonetically. I thought it was extra funny that he pronounced his name like that; I've never heard him say that. The clerk must have thought it sounded like an exotic name, and asked, "oh--where are you from?"
My father looked at her very seriously, and replied, "Florida."
I thought this was very very funny, and after we got into Universal Studios I tried to talk to him about it. I'm sure the clerk expected him to say he was originally from some overseas destination. The look on her face when he replied all deadpan, "Florida" was to funny to contain. My father didn't understand why I thought the situation was so funny. He also doesn't realize it, but he continually does interesting and funny stuff.