Name: Bill Burr - Upper Darby Philadelphia Sheraton Hotel
Uploaded: 2011-04-12T17:37:40.000Z
Description: Watch the stand-up comedy video 'Bill Burr - Upper Darby Philadelphia Sheraton Hotel' from Bill Burr Clips on Comedy Buff. Published 2011-04-12. Transcript available.

Watch the stand-up comedy video 'Bill Burr - Upper Darby Philadelphia Sheraton Hotel' from Bill Burr Clips on Comedy Buff. Published 2011-04-12. Transcript available.

So anyway, so I got a 7.30 a.m. flight.
All right, so I'm thinking, all right, that means I got to get up at fucking 5.30,
return the rental car and all that horseshit.
Why don't I stay at a hotel right next to the airport?
So my travel agent gives me the whole list of options of where I can stay.
So I'm like, yeah, fine, fuck it.
All right, I check them out.
And one of them is the Sheridan.
Sheridan, respected name.
A very quality hotel.
I say, I'm going to stay there.
And the price reflected that it was a quality hotel.
It cost me like, oh, you know, 180 bucks or something like that.
It was a lot of fucking money.
So $199, something like that.
You know, for Philly, that's a lot of fucking money, considering I was right
outside Upper Darby.
So anyways, here's my travel tip for you.
Do not ever stay at the fucking Sheridan at the Philadelphia International
Airport.
It is a beyond ghetto Sheridan.
And it's so fucking ghetto that I knew it was a fucked up Sheridan before I
even went into it.
I pulled up and it looked fine.
I got out of my car.
It looked fine.
And as I walked into the place, as I was walking in, these four chicks were
coming out and they just look like whores from a reality show.
Awful tattoos on their feet, titties up and pushed together, these cheap-ass-looking
stripper shoes.
And I went, oh, no.
Oh, no.
Not a bad hotel.
Please, God.
Please.
I started praying to the travel gods.
Please, please don't let this be a bad hotel.
You know?
I'm like, what?
But, you know, at first I was like, all right.
What are these, like, call girls?
Did they just get done servicing some fucking married business guy on the road?
Is that what they did?
But it was like 12 noon.
It's like, no.
No call girls are up at 12 noon.
All right?
They already wiped, fucking washed off their vaginas, hosed them down at like 8
in the morning.
And now they just fell asleep, face down in a fucking pile of glitter.
And they're not going to wake up again until like 5 in the afternoon.
That's how it works.
Then they wake up.
They fucking, you know.
I don't know what they do.
You know?
They put some fucking vitamin E on the ligature marks around their neck from
the night before.
Do you know what's fucked up about ligature?
Nobody ever uses that statement unless somebody got choked to death.
You know?
Ligature marks.
There's never any ligature marks.
Because you know why?
Because these girls who are into that type of shit, if they survive the
encounter,
they fucking, they wear that little, uh, that little ascot the next day around
their neck.
You know, the hoary one.
A choker.
That's what they wear to cover it up.
You ever have a girl who wants you to do that?
Wants you to choke her?
I remember one time I was with this girl, right?
And she, uh, she, all this type of shit.
She wanted me to slap her in the face.
And all this, all this crazy shit that, uh, that all these fucking women shows,
they never address.
They never address the amount of fucking women that like that.
They like it rough.
It's fucking insane.
Unless I just keep picking the same kinds of fucking women.
But it's ridiculous.
The amount of fucking broads that I've gone out with.
You know, fucking women's lip.
Fucking blah, blah, blah.
My career comes first.
If we get married, I'm not taking your last name.
Yada, yada.
Fucking yada.
Right?
Then you get them in, you know, the fucking all pro women.
This, pro women, that.
And I'm making my own money.
And fucking, you know, and a couple other fucking lyrics from some stupid
Beyonce song.
Right?
All that fucking horse shit.
You're going to respect me.
Eyeball to eyeball.
The images of women on TV.
All that fucking horse shit.
And then you get them back to your place.
And lo and behold, they have a rape fantasy.
You know, am I the only guy?
Am I the only fucking guy?
So anyway, so I see these fucking, just these, these whores.
Father didn't stick around.
You know, George Foreman grill eating fucking, just, just never had a chance.
Four girls just coming out.
Just never had a fucking chance.
And, you know, just dressed like fucking truck stock fucking whores.
And the sad thing is, is they think they look good.
And they don't even realize the vibe that they're putting out.
They don't know any better.
They don't fucking know any better.
All right?
There was a rusted out car in their front yard the day they were born.
And they never had a fucking chance.
You know?
The only fucking male voice that was in their household when they were growing
up was the Billy Bass that their fucking dad left behind.
You know what I mean?
Just, they just never had a fucking chance.
So that was my first red flag.
And I was going, oh, God.
Maybe, maybe they used some sky miles.
Is that how they got in here?
And I just walked in.
The second I walked in, I, I just, I could just tell the caliber of human being
that was in there.
Straight across the board here.
All right?
The caliber of white person.
The caliber of black person.
The caliber of fucking male, female.
You just could tell.
You know what I mean?
Saw some black dude, you know, when they get their hair braided.
But they don't have enough money to fucking get it braided enough.
So they got all those little hairs sticking out of it.
You know?
So you can't see the scalp in between the braids.
You know?
It's not looking fucking right.
It's just not looking right.
The fucking white dude with the cheap Anderson little suit.
The fucking creased up brown loafers with this gold lame horse shit on the
front of it.
You know?
Shoes look like they cost 11 bucks.
And I'm just going, oh, no.
Oh, God.
At least let the fucking room be clean.
You know?
So I check in.
The lady behind the counter, she was nice enough.
You know?
I don't know how she ended up at this fucking Sheridan.
Maybe she stepped out of line at the big stockholders meeting.
This is their Sheridan, Siberia.
So then I go up to my room.
And it's weird.
It had like one of those.
It almost looked like a little house.
You come walking in.
There's a door.
And right next to it, there's this big window for some stupid fucking reason.
If I want to overlook half the elevators and the fucking poor excuse for a pool
that they had.
So the blinds were down, all right?
So I open it up.
And it's a suite.
I'm like, nice.
It was a nice room.
It wasn't bad at all.
So I'm in there for like five fucking minutes.
And I hear this knock on the door, right?
Guy fucking knocks on the door.
It was covered in foam.
So that's what it sounded like.
And I open the door.
And there's a guy standing there with this giant coffee table.
And he goes, and he's trying to walk in with this giant coffee table.
I'm like, whoa, whoa.
I go, you got the wrong room.
I didn't order a table.
He goes, no, no.
This table is, your room's missing a table.
I'm like, it is?
They go, yeah, yeah.
The last people who were here broke the other table.
I was like, Jesus Christ.
What, did they have like a party or something?
And he went, yeah.
I thought he was going to say no.
He went like, yeah.
And I go, well, did they fucking fumigate the place?
Now I think everything's been jizzed on.
You know, I'm laying in fucking angel dust and cocaine and shit, you know.
It keeps getting worse.
Then I'm sitting there for another couple minutes.
And then I just hear this lady telling this story, right?
Motherfucker, this motherfucker trying to tell me that that motherfucker can't
come off you.
I said, motherfucker, you know a motherfucker with a motherfucker, baby.
And I'm like, is that at least, is it at least a guest?
Is it at least a guest?
And I fucking open the blinds to my window.
And she's one of the people cleaning the rooms.
Just cursing up a fucking storm.
Loud as fucking hell.
Like all broke people.
Broke people are the loudest fucking people.
Because they live near the freeways.
They live near the subway.
They used to shouting over shit.
So she's out there, this motherfucker trying to tell me what time it is, baby.
Right?
And just screaming.
And you know how much I curse.
Okay?
I was offended.
And you know how much I curse.
I was just like, Jesus Christ.
Can you please?
I might have kids someday.
Can you please stop cursing like that?
But I didn't say shit.
Because, I mean, at that point, I knew what was going to happen.
I would have been like, I just would have been like, excuse me.
Could you be a favor?
Could you just not?
Motherfucker, why don't you mind your own business?
Ain't nobody talking to you, baby.
Right?
I didn't want to go through that whole fucking thing and her screaming at me.
Plus, she was so fucking big, she probably could have just chokeslammed me.
And we would have had to have a new fucking table in my room.
Third fucking table that week.
And I'm a conservationalist.
Is that the right word?
So I'm like, all right, fuck it.
Whatever.
So I don't say shit.
So anyway, so I drove to Upper Darwin.
It was just unbelievably depressing that people have to live that way.
Fellow Americans have to live that way.
And that we're always sitting here fucking acting like we give a shit about
other countries and we need to help out.
We don't.
All right?
Well, I mean, you give a shit or I give a shit, but our government doesn't.
We're worming our way in there to help them out, air quotes, so we can take
their natural resources.
All right?
That's how it is.
That's what the fuck is really going on.
If you ever wondered why.
All right?
They don't give a fuck about Upper Darby, New Orleans, or whatever fucking all
those blue-collar towns that are failing out there in Ohio.
They don't give a shit about them because they already own them.
So if there's any oil to be had, they can just go in and suck it out of the
ground.
Did that make any fucking sense?
So anyway, so I go back to my ghetto-ass fucking Sheridan.
All right?
I come walking in there, and at this point, it's 1 in the morning.
Now, if it was 1 in the morning and I was at a nice hotel, that'd be the usual
thing.
There would be some people hanging down at the bar, you know, drinking, getting
ready to cheat on their spouses.
Dress nicely, though.
All right?
But because it was a ghetto fucking Sheridan, I went down there, and most of
the people in the lobby were children running around, screaming.
Like, 1 in the morning, kids just running around.
I felt like I was in fucking Atlantic City.
You know, those gamblers, degenerate gamblers, they don't fucking handle their
kids right, right?
So, just this sea of fucking children.
I mean, I was waiting for fucking, you know, the only thing I was missing was
somebody there, you know, gathering them.
Like, you could have had a children's choir.
That's how many fucking kids were there.
So, I go up the elevator, and I get out of the elevator, and I walk back up to
my little, you know, I told you, the front of the room looked like a house.
And there was a door, and then there's the window.
And as I'm looking, I'm at the door, as I'm looking down to take out my hotel
key,
I look down, and on the windowsill is a three-quarter-eaten chicken wing.
Sitting on the fucking windowsill.
I got pictures to prove it.
They're all going to be up on the MMPodcast.com, whatever the fuck it is.
Is that the name of the website?
I don't even know the name of the fucking website.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Yeah, the MMPodcast.com.
If you go up there, I'll have all these pictures.
There's the pictures of the Tower Theater and all that.
I didn't take any pictures when I was driving through Upper Darby for obvious
fucking reasons.
I didn't want to be, you know, I just, I would not want to be taking pictures
down there.
Because people either think you're a cop, or you're just documenting their
level of poverty.
Which would be fucking annoying to me if I was in that situation.
So anyways, with that, that was my, oh, and then the next morning I woke up,
and I dropped my car off at budget.
It was fucking hilarious.
One of these hilarious racial moments here.
Is I go to get on the bus, the bus driver's black, five white guys get on it.
He asks us where we're going.
I got U.S. Air, this guy says this, blah, blah, blah.
So we're driving in that, and he's listening to this preacher.
Because it's Sunday morning, and the guy, you know, he's talking about, you
know, people need to be into Jesus, and blah, blah, blah.
All this, you know, regular Jesus shit, right?
But then all of a sudden, he starts talking about Obama, and around, he just
starts kind of trashing white people.
Just going, we should be giving thanks to Jesus that a strong black man is
president.
And he's not afraid to stand up to the white supremacists that we run in this
country.
And he's got it cranked, and I'm sitting there fucking, and all I did, just
because I wanted to have the laugh, I just turned around and looked at all the
other four white guys.
And then everybody's just sort of sitting down, looking at their wingtips, like,
really?
What exactly is the call here?
Or can we say something?
You know, excuse me, we're not all white supremacists, you know?
Like, what exactly is the proper response to that?
Because I thought it was, I don't know, I actually thought it was fucking
hilarious.
I wish I could remember what the guy was saying.
Ah, Jesus, now I'm fucking bombing again on this fucking podcast.

Bill Burr - Upper Darby Philadelphia Sheraton Hotel

So anyway, so I got a 7.30 a.m. flight.
All right, so I'm thinking, all right, that means I got to get up at fucking 5.30,
return the rental car and all that horseshit.
Why don't I stay at a hotel right next to the airport?
So my travel agent gives me the whole list of options of where I can stay.
So I'm like, yeah, fine, fuck it.
All right, I check them out.
And one of them is the Sheridan.
Sheridan, respected name.
A very quality hotel.
I say, I'm going to stay there.
And the price reflected that it was a quality hotel.
It cost me like, oh, you know, 180 bucks or something like that.
It was a lot of fucking money.
So $199, something like that.
You know, for Philly, that's a lot of fucking money, considering I was right
outside Upper Darby.
So anyways, here's my travel tip for you.
Do not ever stay at the fucking Sheridan at the Philadelphia International
Airport.
It is a beyond ghetto Sheridan.
And it's so fucking ghetto that I knew it was a fucked up Sheridan before I
even went into it.
I pulled up and it looked fine.
I got out of my car.
It looked fine.
And as I walked into the place, as I was walking in, these four chicks were
coming out and they just look like whores from a reality show.
Awful tattoos on their feet, titties up and pushed together, these cheap-ass-looking
stripper shoes.
And I went, oh, no.
Oh, no.
Not a bad hotel.
Please, God.
Please.
I started praying to the travel gods.
Please, please don't let this be a bad hotel.
You know?
I'm like, what?
But, you know, at first I was like, all right.
What are these, like, call girls?
Did they just get done servicing some fucking married business guy on the road?
Is that what they did?
But it was like 12 noon.
It's like, no.
No call girls are up at 12 noon.
All right?
They already wiped, fucking washed off their vaginas, hosed them down at like 8
in the morning.
And now they just fell asleep, face down in a fucking pile of glitter.
And they're not going to wake up again until like 5 in the afternoon.
That's how it works.
Then they wake up.
They fucking, you know.
I don't know what they do.
You know?
They put some fucking vitamin E on the ligature marks around their neck from
the night before.
Do you know what's fucked up about ligature?
Nobody ever uses that statement unless somebody got choked to death.
You know?
Ligature marks.
There's never any ligature marks.
Because you know why?
Because these girls who are into that type of shit, if they survive the
encounter,
they fucking, they wear that little, uh, that little ascot the next day around
their neck.
You know, the hoary one.
A choker.
That's what they wear to cover it up.
You ever have a girl who wants you to do that?
Wants you to choke her?
I remember one time I was with this girl, right?
And she, uh, she, all this type of shit.
She wanted me to slap her in the face.
And all this, all this crazy shit that, uh, that all these fucking women shows,
they never address.
They never address the amount of fucking women that like that.
They like it rough.
It's fucking insane.
Unless I just keep picking the same kinds of fucking women.
But it's ridiculous.
The amount of fucking broads that I've gone out with.
You know, fucking women's lip.
Fucking blah, blah, blah.
My career comes first.
If we get married, I'm not taking your last name.
Yada, yada.
Fucking yada.
Right?
Then you get them in, you know, the fucking all pro women.
This, pro women, that.
And I'm making my own money.
And fucking, you know, and a couple other fucking lyrics from some stupid
Beyonce song.
Right?
All that fucking horse shit.
You're going to respect me.
Eyeball to eyeball.
The images of women on TV.
All that fucking horse shit.
And then you get them back to your place.
And lo and behold, they have a rape fantasy.
You know, am I the only guy?
Am I the only fucking guy?
So anyway, so I see these fucking, just these, these whores.
Father didn't stick around.
You know, George Foreman grill eating fucking, just, just never had a chance.
Four girls just coming out.
Just never had a fucking chance.
And, you know, just dressed like fucking truck stock fucking whores.
And the sad thing is, is they think they look good.
And they don't even realize the vibe that they're putting out.
They don't know any better.
They don't fucking know any better.
All right?
There was a rusted out car in their front yard the day they were born.
And they never had a fucking chance.
You know?
The only fucking male voice that was in their household when they were growing
up was the Billy Bass that their fucking dad left behind.
You know what I mean?
Just, they just never had a fucking chance.
So that was my first red flag.
And I was going, oh, God.
Maybe, maybe they used some sky miles.
Is that how they got in here?
And I just walked in.
The second I walked in, I, I just, I could just tell the caliber of human being
that was in there.
Straight across the board here.
All right?
The caliber of white person.
The caliber of black person.
The caliber of fucking male, female.
You just could tell.
You know what I mean?
Saw some black dude, you know, when they get their hair braided.
But they don't have enough money to fucking get it braided enough.
So they got all those little hairs sticking out of it.
You know?
So you can't see the scalp in between the braids.
You know?
It's not looking fucking right.
It's just not looking right.
The fucking white dude with the cheap Anderson little suit.
The fucking creased up brown loafers with this gold lame horse shit on the
front of it.
You know?
Shoes look like they cost 11 bucks.
And I'm just going, oh, no.
Oh, God.
At least let the fucking room be clean.
You know?
So I check in.
The lady behind the counter, she was nice enough.
You know?
I don't know how she ended up at this fucking Sheridan.
Maybe she stepped out of line at the big stockholders meeting.
This is their Sheridan, Siberia.
So then I go up to my room.
And it's weird.
It had like one of those.
It almost looked like a little house.
You come walking in.
There's a door.
And right next to it, there's this big window for some stupid fucking reason.
If I want to overlook half the elevators and the fucking poor excuse for a pool
that they had.
So the blinds were down, all right?
So I open it up.
And it's a suite.
I'm like, nice.
It was a nice room.
It wasn't bad at all.
So I'm in there for like five fucking minutes.
And I hear this knock on the door, right?
Guy fucking knocks on the door.
It was covered in foam.
So that's what it sounded like.
And I open the door.
And there's a guy standing there with this giant coffee table.
And he goes, and he's trying to walk in with this giant coffee table.
I'm like, whoa, whoa.
I go, you got the wrong room.
I didn't order a table.
He goes, no, no.
This table is, your room's missing a table.
I'm like, it is?
They go, yeah, yeah.
The last people who were here broke the other table.
I was like, Jesus Christ.
What, did they have like a party or something?
And he went, yeah.
I thought he was going to say no.
He went like, yeah.
And I go, well, did they fucking fumigate the place?
Now I think everything's been jizzed on.
You know, I'm laying in fucking angel dust and cocaine and shit, you know.
It keeps getting worse.
Then I'm sitting there for another couple minutes.
And then I just hear this lady telling this story, right?
Motherfucker, this motherfucker trying to tell me that that motherfucker can't
come off you.
I said, motherfucker, you know a motherfucker with a motherfucker, baby.
And I'm like, is that at least, is it at least a guest?
Is it at least a guest?
And I fucking open the blinds to my window.
And she's one of the people cleaning the rooms.
Just cursing up a fucking storm.
Loud as fucking hell.
Like all broke people.
Broke people are the loudest fucking people.
Because they live near the freeways.
They live near the subway.
They used to shouting over shit.
So she's out there, this motherfucker trying to tell me what time it is, baby.
Right?
And just screaming.
And you know how much I curse.
Okay?
I was offended.
And you know how much I curse.
I was just like, Jesus Christ.
Can you please?
I might have kids someday.
Can you please stop cursing like that?
But I didn't say shit.
Because, I mean, at that point, I knew what was going to happen.
I would have been like, I just would have been like, excuse me.
Could you be a favor?
Could you just not?
Motherfucker, why don't you mind your own business?
Ain't nobody talking to you, baby.
Right?
I didn't want to go through that whole fucking thing and her screaming at me.
Plus, she was so fucking big, she probably could have just chokeslammed me.
And we would have had to have a new fucking table in my room.
Third fucking table that week.
And I'm a conservationalist.
Is that the right word?
So I'm like, all right, fuck it.
Whatever.
So I don't say shit.
So anyway, so I drove to Upper Darwin.
It was just unbelievably depressing that people have to live that way.
Fellow Americans have to live that way.
And that we're always sitting here fucking acting like we give a shit about
other countries and we need to help out.
We don't.
All right?
Well, I mean, you give a shit or I give a shit, but our government doesn't.
We're worming our way in there to help them out, air quotes, so we can take
their natural resources.
All right?
That's how it is.
That's what the fuck is really going on.
If you ever wondered why.
All right?
They don't give a fuck about Upper Darby, New Orleans, or whatever fucking all
those blue-collar towns that are failing out there in Ohio.
They don't give a shit about them because they already own them.
So if there's any oil to be had, they can just go in and suck it out of the
ground.
Did that make any fucking sense?
So anyway, so I go back to my ghetto-ass fucking Sheridan.
All right?
I come walking in there, and at this point, it's 1 in the morning.
Now, if it was 1 in the morning and I was at a nice hotel, that'd be the usual
thing.
There would be some people hanging down at the bar, you know, drinking, getting
ready to cheat on their spouses.
Dress nicely, though.
All right?
But because it was a ghetto fucking Sheridan, I went down there, and most of
the people in the lobby were children running around, screaming.
Like, 1 in the morning, kids just running around.
I felt like I was in fucking Atlantic City.
You know, those gamblers, degenerate gamblers, they don't fucking handle their
kids right, right?
So, just this sea of fucking children.
I mean, I was waiting for fucking, you know, the only thing I was missing was
somebody there, you know, gathering them.
Like, you could have had a children's choir.
That's how many fucking kids were there.
So, I go up the elevator, and I get out of the elevator, and I walk back up to
my little, you know, I told you, the front of the room looked like a house.
And there was a door, and then there's the window.
And as I'm looking, I'm at the door, as I'm looking down to take out my hotel
key,
I look down, and on the windowsill is a three-quarter-eaten chicken wing.
Sitting on the fucking windowsill.
I got pictures to prove it.
They're all going to be up on the MMPodcast.com, whatever the fuck it is.
Is that the name of the website?
I don't even know the name of the fucking website.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Yeah, the MMPodcast.com.
If you go up there, I'll have all these pictures.
There's the pictures of the Tower Theater and all that.
I didn't take any pictures when I was driving through Upper Darby for obvious
fucking reasons.
I didn't want to be, you know, I just, I would not want to be taking pictures
down there.
Because people either think you're a cop, or you're just documenting their
level of poverty.
Which would be fucking annoying to me if I was in that situation.
So anyways, with that, that was my, oh, and then the next morning I woke up,
and I dropped my car off at budget.
It was fucking hilarious.
One of these hilarious racial moments here.
Is I go to get on the bus, the bus dri