5.01.2007

Abracadabra

There are days I spend living in hotels. Today, it was the beautifully cavernous, magical old Biltmore. Where I always run into someone.

Through the throng of women in hats, a cacophony of voices ricocheted off the high ceilings and suddenly, there he stood staring directly at me, with a look of bewilderment all over his once-pretty face. He told his colleagues he'd catch up to them and made his way over.

"Hey," he stammered, not quite sure what to say to a woman whose last words to him were, "you disgust me."

"Hello." I raised an eyebrow.

"Uh...I'm here for the women in business luncheon. Just escorting a couple of colleagues." As if he had to explain himself.

"I've got a couple lawyers in there," I told him, tossing my head in the general direction of a room teeming with attorneys. Gave the curls a good shake.

"You look good." He was being polite, of course.

"So do you." I lied. He's lost 30 pounds and looks emaciated under that lovely suit. It just hangs on him now.

"Well, I've got to run, but it was really nice to see you."

"Bye."

And he ran away. Literally, ran. The shock was clear on his face, his body language, his hesitancy. Me, I never changed expression. Nonchalant and a little cold maybe. Because I could be.

He was in my world. When a Cat Burglar invades my territory, he's not going to play his
verbal mind tricks on me.

The whole episode did, however, fuck with my brain. Because I just so happened to be telling a coworker about a drunk I once knew. And suddenly one appeared.


As if I had whispered the wrong magic word.

8 comments:

Bengali Chick said...

Not so fun running into a drunk and a person who disgusts you. I love the way he ran away! Good job:)

Anonymous said...

Little off topic, but the Biltmore has (or had) one of my favorite bars. I was playing a gig in the main ballroom and went wandering during a break when I came across the bar tucked into this little niche. I ordered a Lagavulin and the bartender kept topping it off for 20 minutes, and only charged me $5. I went back after every set and ended up having to get a room that night.

Ghetto Photo Girl said...

BC: The truth is, after 6 months, I only view him with pity. He's merely a shell of the man I used to know.

JTS: The rooms are a bit smallish, no? And the staircases remind me of being on a boat, for some reason. Go figure.

Also, when did you become a drunk?

Anonymous said...

18, when I started playing clubs 4-5 nights a week with comp. drinks for the band.

Cowboy said...

Looks like a peach of a hotel.

Love the hyperlinks in the blog, it's like a scavenger hunt through your stories.

David N. Scott said...

Yea, good confrontation there, GPG. I'm always awkward with the exes. It's a shame when people wreck themselves, no?

Ghetto Photo Girl said...

J: I'm just glad you continue to read. Thanks.

David: But it's always great to feel like you're the one better off. Like you've won.

I know I did.

Anonymous said...

Eep. What an unfortunate encounter.