Wiarton: Day 2 of...oh, who knows?

Working in Wiarton is - and I must stress this - not all that bad. That the setting of my summer adventures is boring is undeniable. People come up here to fish, for heaven's sake, and that's the most boring thing ever in my mind. However, the sun shines, the air is fresh, the groundhogs are in their condo and it's quiet. Maybe I'll finally finish THE book, because it seems that no one in the WSS will rest until I make some progress on it. There are worse places one could be. No, the thing I dreaded the most in coming to Wiarton is the crazies.

A sample rant from my first summer in Wiarton:
"To the guest with the cigars and candles (both prohibited) in room #15: If you ever smoke cigars in our room again, I will destroy you. I can do it, you know. I know your phone number, I know where you work and I have your credit card number. Do it again. And if the ozone machine should happen to appear in your room while you sleep at night, who's to say that I wasn't just deodorizing your filthy stench?"

I'm much more mellow than I was back then. No, I really am!

Fine, don't believe me.

But there are bound to be some crazy people. And I don't mean such enchantingly silly individuals like you and me. I mean Cuh-RAZY! I dread it. I dread it so much that I was thinking of ways to resolve such clashes without having to release toxins into somebody's room in a murderous mood. What if I acted even more erratically than them to sort of throw them off their guard? Furiously transcribing everything they say onto a sheet of paper while muttering maledictions? Smiling maniacally at unreasonable customers, for instance, while I stir my mug of tea in a manner that suggests some dreadful purpose?

Any suggestions?