| August
5, 2002
out among
them
She was
brassy and I longed for a woodwind. He still said "been there, done
that," as though it were clever. I imagined plunging my shrimp cocktail
fork deep into his wandering left eye. He'd probably lurch forward,
his forked face in the now tepid bisque, and gurgle, "been there, done
that." On the opposite side of the banquet table, to my left, was
another married couple who apparently failed to notice that their cross-table
counterparts were insipid bores, if not classic morons. At least
the broad on my left had noticed her own impressive rack and wore a clingy,
low-cut evening dress that showcased the goods. Not that it would
do her any good. Her older, imploding husband was clearly a veteran
of The Ethyl Alcohol Wars. I watched him blot turpentine sweat from
his florid brow even as the dining hall's massive AC unit spewed frigid
air with an efficiency not seen since Mussolini's trains. This fellow
would go limp before his drool, and her dress, hit the hotel room floor. |