Barroom Brilliance: When Einstein Fails to Impress

During the President’s Day long weekend, my roommate Akira and I decided to visit Los Angeles for a quick getaway. The journey stretched about 350 miles, roughly a six-hour drive, mostly on the straight and monotonous Interstate-5. Within two hours of hitting the road, Akira, who had promised to stay awake, fell asleep in the passenger seat.

Already sleep-deprived from a busy week, I struggled to keep my eyes open as I drove the monotonous highway. Despite the temptation to stop at a hotel along the way, I opted to push through since we had already booked accommodation in LA for that night. About halfway into the drive, fatigue caught up with me, causing a momentary lapse where my car drifted out of its lane. Thankfully, a horn from behind startled me back to alertness.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, I pulled over into a rest area, bought a pack of icy chilled water bottles, splashed some on my face to wake myself up, and resumed driving. Those chilled water bottles helped me stay awake for the rest of the journey.

We arrived at our hotel in LA around 2 am. When we tried to check in, the receptionist struggled to locate our reservation.

“Sorry Sir, but I can’t find your reservation for tonight. Are you sure your transaction went through?” the receptionist asked.

“Of course, it did. It’s a confirmed booking. You can see the details on the paper receipt,” I replied, handing over the printout of the reservation details.

He scrutinized the paper for a moment, then dropped a bombshell on us.

“Sir, it appears you did make a reservation, but it’s for the same date next month,” the receptionist informed me.

“What?? How is that possible?” I was puzzled and annoyed. I had just driven 350 miles for 6 hours, almost had us killed dozing off behind the wheel, and the trouble was still not over? I realized that the booking website defaulted to the next month, and in my haste, I overlooked the month and selected the date from that default month.

 By now, Akira had lost it too. She was giving me this “What a stupid!” look. I was extremely tired, and this was the last mishap I wanted. I was embarrassed and in agony at the same time.

“Okay. Never mind. Can you take a booking for a room now?” she asked the receptionist.

“Sorry Ma’am, but we are full for tonight,” he replied.

Upon multiple requests and seeing our helpless situation, he agreed to give us the only room left in the hotel, though at a ridiculous price. It was a single queen bed that I and Akira had to share for the night. We slept with our backs facing each other, avoiding eye contact, each occupying a corner of the bed. She was clearly mad at me.

The next morning, when things calmed down, I explained to her the website’s fault. She understood and let it go. I quickly planned some activities for the day and got ready to head out. Akira stayed back, not feeling too well, so I went ahead alone to explore the city.

When Einstein Trick Doesn’t work

It was already dark as I made my way back to the hotel after a few hours of exploring the city and spotted a bar along the way. I thought it would be a good idea to grab a beer.

Upon entering, I headed straight to the barroom counter to order my drink. “What would you like?” the bartender asked casually.

“A lager, please,” I said, leaning against the counter with my elbows.

“That’ll be six dollars,” the bartender said as she handed me my drink.

“Open a tab, please,” I requested, handing her my credit card, expecting to have more than one drink.

I pulled up a stool, sat comfortably, took my first sip, and looked around. “One, two, three, four, five,” I silently counted the number of people at the bar as I took in the ambiance. “Slow day, boring music…should have picked a different bar,” I regretted.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but can you tell me how much 15% of $27 is?” I heard someone ask.

My ears followed the origin of the voice. It was a girl, probably in her early 20s, sitting two stools away. She had just finished her drinks and seemed to be struggling to calculate the tip for the bartender.

“Lemme find that for ya,” the bartender replied to the girl as she searched for her calculator. “Just when you need it, you don’t find it,” the bartender grumbled.

“That’d be 4 dollars and 5 cents,” I interjected confidently, taking big gulps of my beer, unable to resist my engineer’s impulse.

Their faces swung towards me, visibly shocked, as they waited for me to finish my big gulps. There was silence for at least five seconds.

“You must be an engineer!” the girl exclaimed.

“Damn right. I am,” I replied, grinning with pride as I wiped beer froth from the edge of my lips.

“Are you from India?” she asked.

“How did you guess?” Now it was my turn to be surprised.

“Because I know Indians are good at Math!” she clarified.

Flattered, I seized the opportunity to boast about the great Indian education system, where calculators were off-limits until we were practically grown-ass teenagers, ready to spit out multiplication tables, square roots, heck, even logarithmic tables on demand.

Ten minutes into our conversation, she had to leave, so we exchanged phone numbers, promising to catch up again soon.

I was certain that I had impressed her enough with my high intelligence quotient that she would be looking forward to a date with me. So, I called her the next day.

No answer.

I left a text message.

No response.

And guess what? I never heard from her again. She ghosted me faster than you can say “E=mc²!” Clearly, the Einstein shit didn’t work!