"So let me get this straight," she says. "It's not loopholes you have a thing for, it's ice holes?"
"Oh yes," I say, "from when I was little and my dad used to take me ice fishing. Ever since he got MS and can't get around as well anymore, I like to remember the times when we used to be together on the ice, sitting around the ice holes."
Well at least the part about him having MS is true.
"That's sweet," she says.
Hey, I'm on a roll here.
"Not only do I like ice holes," I say, "but I like sinkholes."
"I mean, I'd hate to get my truck stuck in one, but they're so interesting, the way they just appear all of a sudden. And peepholes, I like those too."
"It is always good to see who's on the other side of the door so you know whether you want to let them in or not. Oh, and blowholes — you know, whales. They should be saved."
"So," she says slowly, reviewing my case item by item, "you like ice holes, sinkholes, peepholes and blowholes?"
I pick up the phone, start to punch in the number from the slip of paper, stop.Don’t judge a book by its cover. This saying has never held so much truth than in this case. If you’re looking for something unique and fun, then Johnny is your man.
“Are you just going to stand there?” I say.
“What’s the big deal?”
“I just feel funny talking on the phone with you standing there like that. It’s like when a guy’s trying to take a pee and some guy comes in and starts using the urinal right next to him. It feels awkward.”
“You’re being ridiculous about this.”
I just keep staring at her, waiting.
“Fine,” Sam huffs, heading for the door.