If you’re poor, don’t go on vacation.

-John MacGregor

Not only do you embarrass yourself when you roll into a restaurant and just order water, and eat the free chips they supply, but you embarrass me when we almost get arrested because you were caught in the back of a club stealing bottles of alcohol.

It’s hard not having money (I assume, I don’t actually know, because I have a job and everything), but don’t be one of those people that claims they are too broke to afford food, then two days later jump in your car and head to Vegas or something. Poor people shouldn’t even be allowed to leave their house (or: box), unless it’s to apply for a job. It’s like the second you leave the house; it becomes this constant fucking mission to bum out every single person you come into contact with.

If you’ve ever vacationed with a poor person you know EXACTLY what I am talking about, I’ll give you a scenario that may or may not have happened to me on a vacation. But just to warn you: It did happen.

A friend and I went to a restaurant, because I declined on going to McDonalds which was his original option. The waitress came and took our drink order; I ordered something, its not really relevant, and the guy I was with orders an ice water with a side of lemons. This is a perfectly acceptable drink; I do this all the time when I don’t plan on getting tanked.

But when the waitress came and only gave him two lemons, he demanded a whole entire bowl of them (in one of those shitty tones, that you can tell is only going to reward him a big glob of jizz in his clam chowder… oh wait nevermind, he’s not ordering food because 7 11 turns their cameras off after midnight and he’s probably going to go steal a 3 day old hot dog).

Once the lady came back with the lemons, I proceeded to watch him squeeze every single lemon slice into the water, then dump in 6 sugar packets. I immediately realized:

“Dude, are you making your own fucking lemonade?”

“Yeah, I’m not spending 2 bucks on their lemonade, that’s bullshit.”

I ordered a shot of Johnny Walker and a revolver to shoot this fuck in the mouth, but she informed me they don’t carry handguns.

For the next couple of hours, I had to endure the pain of watching this poor son of a bitch order bowl after bowl of lemons. He also kept going up to the bar and grabbing handfuls of maraschino cherries. Now you know who I am? I’m the douche bag with the poor guy who can’t even spring for lemonade and an appetizer.

Another time, I was forced to close my tab out and leave the club I was in because my friend was kicked out for sneaking in cans of PBR.

Poor? Don’t drink. Or go into debt drinking. All of those are better than sneaking in Pabst Blue Ribbon in your jean pockets.

And what are you supposed to do with these people during the day? You can’t go to any sites, because obviously they don’t have any money.

Hopefully the place you’re going to has free bingo or something in your hotel, or else you’ll just be confined to watching The Shield re-runs while drinking Vodka from a plastic jug.

And that’s another thing: the hotel. Usually the poor person will opt to get the cheapest motel they can find near the city you’ll be staying because $100 bucks for a hotel is obviously well out of their price range. You may actually draw the line here and tell the person you don’t want to stay at Motel 6 because you’re not a prostitute (or: crack dealer).

So now you’re stuck footing most of the bill because you don’t want to sleep in motel rooms that prohibit the use of black lights as to not reveal where your comforter has ACTUALLY been.

They may make the argument that “it’s just a place to sleep, why do we need something fancy?” And I will agree with that, to an extent. But it’s NOT just a place to sleep, when you have no fucking money and can’t do anything. Poor people are always making up these false quips, something to the affect of: “The best things in life are free”, “Money doesn’t buy happiness”, or “We can have fun without spending money”.

To which I say: FUCK YOU.

The best things in life aren’t free.

Love? Right… I loved this girl, who didn’t cost anything at first. We talked for minutes and minutes; we stared longingly into each others eyes, our souls connected in a way we never thought possible. I knew I would be with this woman forever. Then the music stopped playing, she hopped off my lap, asked for $85 and left me in the VIP room with a sticky pair of jeans. Love costs like a week’s salary.

Happiness? Movies cost money. Shows cost money. Happy endings cost money. Happiness costs money.

Faith? Church’s pass around that donation box, and if you don’t put money in it you will be damned to hell. God is spendy.

Now when you’re at this “fancy hotel”, you are almost too embarrassed to even show your face in the lobby, because the maid service caught the person you were with shoving shampoo bottles and bars of soap into their suitcase.

You don’t even want to sit down to continental breakfast with the person because they are too busy filling their pockets with muffins and bagels.

Vacationing with poor people is like going kayaking with an amputee: They’re fucking useless.

What you can take from this:

If you’re poor/broke/financially unstable at the moment, DON’T GO ON FUCKING VACATION. Go do something better like fill out an application, beg for change, or better yet, slip your head through a noose.

If you’re not poor, and a poor person calls you to set up a trip of some sort, hang up the phone and then send them an envelope filled with anthrax. Or make sure there are going to be more people on this trip who are in the same tax bracket as you or better, because then you can leave that person at McDonalds while you and your friends can enjoy a nice meal without having to deal with your poor friend ordering 12 bowls of lemons in one sitting.

• The Telly