I stayed in a fancy-pants hotel last weekend. How fancy? US Open golfers were trickling in. And I still managed to be the worst dressed person in the lobby.
At one point, I called room service and ordered two desserts. There was the dessert that sounded good, and then there was the back-up dessert.
"And how many people is this for?" asked the voice on the hotel phone.
"Um. Two?" I lied.
He knew.