I really shouldn't be telling you this

I wanted to put this off for a bit, but my fingers won’t let me.

I feel the need to emphasize, before I start, that I am as sane as any of you reading this blog, so please don’t think badly of this after reading it.

Last night I left work in a good mood. I was going to catch a bus home, and my spirits were high, until I reached the booking office, where they told me they’d just sold the last ticket to Madras. When was the next bus? Oh? Never mind.

Right, well, at least there’s football on the telly, I thought, one which kept me going for the rest of a fairly dreary afternoon, punctuated by naps which seem to come out of nowhere for ten or fifteen minutes at a time. I think I may be sick. In any case, I put the TV on at half past six, only to find my sports channels blocked. Why? Apparently, the subscription had run out. Spiffing. Did they tell me I was running out of time? No. Was I able to contact them on their mobiles? No, they’d changed their numbers. (Maybe they predicted this would happen). So I panic, because Liverpool are on at 7.30, and I don’t have a TV to watch them on. Now, if you’re a football fan, you’ll know that this is a crisis. (I must add that there’d been no football worth watching on the telly for a good coupla weeks, so I’d managed to work up a bit of an appetite). So I run outside and hail down a passing auto, and tell him to take me into town, where my cable operator’s office is.

At the office, I am told that I’ll get my football back by this Monday at the earliest. This wouldn’t do, obviously, because my team were on in half an hour. Then I decided, what the hell, lets get a cheap hotel room with a TV. I figured shelling out 250 bucks on a game would be a one-off, and well worth the investment. As you would. Well, most of you. Make that some of you. Actually, very few of you. You know what, I think I may be the only one. Bugger. (Did I overdo that?... Really?... Thanks!)

So I’m off hunting for a cheap hotel. The first one I came across I shall call Red Light Inn. That isn’t its real name, of course, but it could have been. I went in and ask the guy at reception for a room. He says Single or Double? Single, I say. Rs.350/-, inclusive of taxes, he responds. Fine, I say, I’ll take it. I’ll transcript the rest of the conversation, it’ll be easier. Everything’s in Tamil, roughly translated, except where mentioned (look out for this):

Him: Do you have any ID?

Me: Here (Pulling out my license)

Him: Where do you work?

Me: At Titan. Why do you ask?

Him: Do you have any proof that you work there?

Me: No, I only have my license on me right now.

Him: Where are you from? Where do you live?

Me: I live in Hosur. I’m from Madras.

Him: We don’t give rooms to locals. Are you single?

Me: Yes. I asked for a single room.

Him: Why?

Me: There’s a match on and I need to see it!

Him: You want a room to watch a match?

Me: Yes! I’ll be out of here at ten!

Him (In ENGLISH): What’s your problem?

Me (Shocked that anyone could be this rude while sitting behind a reception desk): What’s YOUR problem?

Him: No room for you.

Me: Fine. Silly old …. (under my breath)

So I stormed out into the street and made my way to another hotel. I didn’t have my hopes up because this hotel was usually full.

At the reception desk, I was informed by a very distracted receptionist that there were no singles, only doubles. Fine, I said. Do they have ESPN? Absolutely, he went. That’ll be Rs.550/-, taxes extra. No thank you, I said, and slithered out the front door.

Before I continue, for those of you who don’t know me, I feel I must give you a little bit of history. When I joined Titan in June 2005, I had no accommodation, and was forced to stay in a hotel, which I will not name here. This place was the only one which offered monthly rates at anything like a reasonable price, but it also happened to be very seedy, dingy, and a little dangerous (I thought)… well, I wasn’t too fond of it, if you get my drift. When I moved out of there last September, I promised myself I wouldn’t go back..

Well, I had to break that promise last night, and I walked up to the reception with a smile on my face. The old fellow behind it was dead eager to give me a room, and handed the keys over sharpish. Do you get ESPN, I asked, and he was nodding all over the place, so I said Great, and went upstairs. The game would have kicked off by now, I thought to myself. When I opened the door I told the lad who had accompanied me to my door what I wanted for dinner, and he was off. Then I turned the TV on. No ESPN. Every single channel EXCEPT ESPN. I didn’t know what to do with myself. This can’t be happening, I thought. No. I went down and told them to call their cable operator, and was dismissed with a nod, a smile, and a message in Hindi that the cable operator would not be available till Monday. Hurrah. Then I panicked, and called a friend, who managed to let me work myself up so much I realized that the game had already kicked off and I’d better get home, at least to follow it on the internet. Off I went, only to be chased by a waiter with my food in one hand and a bill in the other. After a little bit of Keystone Kops, I set off for the homestead with a parcel of food and my wallet considerably lighter, as the hotel wouldn’t give my money back, seeing as I’d booked the room for the night, and that a refund was SIMPLY impossible. I didn’t have time to argue, so off I went (the food caught up minutes later). My dad called to tell me Liverpool were one down, in spite of dominating the game. Brilliant, I thought. At this rate I’ll get home, walk through the door, and the lights will go out. Which they duly did. I was ready to kill someone, when the power came back on. I dashed to my computer and followed the rest of the game, which Liverpool managed to draw. Lovely.

This is so irrelevant to the problems in the world today, and I can’t imagine an awful lot of you really caring, that much, but let me just say this: A fan and his football team are a permanent relationship – even weddings can end in divorce. But I’m a fan, and I’ll love my team forever.

(I wonder how many marriage proposals I’ll get after this one. Crikey.)