My buddy David and I just got back from the Emerald City. Two dumped husbands in search of Hotel Goodbar. Where to park? Nowhere if you're near Madison Avenue. We found an attendant with the obligatory sinister smile and sarcastically stacked our console change to resemble the twin towers. He drove off to an area for employees only, I just hope the tailpipe wasn't too hot.
My camera bag is a bag, so I lateraled off to androman. Let 'em wonder about him, I have enough problems without it.
It was great to touch our feet upon the pulse of the city. To feel the heightened breezes and the sense of vulnerability at being so insignificant. If it were up to Dave, we'd be humming hymns at JavaJesus, but anywhere with a hot cup would do.
Just outside the coffee shop was a tiny chess piece of a lady facing a wall to greet the passers-by. Her beauty was accented by high fashion pointy boots and a willful, riveted stare. She held out a flyer that no man could pass up. Not that the flyer mattered, but it was as close as you'd ever come to holding her hand.
It was very cold so I asked her if she wanted some coffee. And, being a woman who is literal, she said "no thanks." Translated: "Not from you." Despite her practicality, the kindness she was blinded to asked again. She said a hesitant yes. I sent Dave to get it. The relief in her face turned to outrage. "Why did you ask me if I wanted coffee if you were going to send him to get it?" I told her it was because he could afford it. Then, as a ravished bridesmaid, I suggested she would really like Dave if she got to know him. Dave came out with her coffee and I moved away. They traded numbers.
As I looked back, I was hoping she would give me a last look before the corner. I had given her Dave and coffee, and though I deserved a goodbye and a hug, she stared at the wall and remained, without peripheral inclusion, totally compliant in her lovely little lane...
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