…My neighbor.
Allow me to back up. I got back from Trinidad Monday night (fabulous by the way, for the EventologyTT conference – no kidnapping incidents, no ransom, nada) and I fly to New York yesterday. I check in to my new FAVORITE hotel in the universe, the Thompson LES. I wasn’t totally sure about the Thompson because while I spend a lot of time on the Lower East Side because I think it’s quite hip, I haven’t stayed down here. Ding ding, it’s a winner.
Now I can’t remember if I blogged about this before or not, but before I decided on the hotel, an article came out last weekend in the Wall Street Journal I think, about naked people being visible in some windows at The Standard. (I’ll admit, I almost did stay there just because of this and the potential for a good blog, but alas, I am married – 7 years Monday, thank-you-very-much) , I chose The Thompson. I need to hurry up here, you’ll see why in a sec.
Last night I decide I need Thai food so I go to Eat-Pisode (so good, so cheap) and to write out/organize my calendar. This proved shocking because I finally merged my appointments on my phone with my appointments in my organizer and my email and realized I’m going to be busier here than I am in L.A. Natch! Shocker! Forget all this. I get organized, get back to my room, take ONE Advil PM (time difference) and relax into blissful slumber. Until…
Midnight strikes. I hear talking and clamoring from next door. No, it’s not what you think (people, please this is a family blog) . I hear this guy start to talk and at first I’m in my PG haze so I’m not sure what’s happening and whether he’s alone. Yes, he’s alone, but he’s on the phone. Seriously? In our family a guy on the phone having a chit-chat convo is like spotting a pink whale in the Pacific, ain’t happening. At first I realize that this is maybe the only flaw at the Thompson – that the walls are thin enough for me to hear this gentleman. Flaw not! It gets delicious. I swear on my life, I am not making this up. In fact, it’s all still going on and I can’t type fast enough.
The guy next store starts talking in this New England like situation, you know where they sort of talk through their teeth like everything has a shzzzsh to it? Kind of like when they say Dshzzzshaaaaaling instead of darling? (Actually, who calls anyone darling anyway.) The voice is something that should be on some Law and Order type show. He must be talking to a chic friend because that’s the only kind of person who would listen to this. There are long pauses on his end which means she’s actually giving him advice. He starts by telling her that the steak he had [at dinner] Dshzzzshaaaaaling would’ve beat anyzzhing he’s had in Omaha. Omaha? Seriously? Is that the hotbed of steak activity these days? Well I’m bummed that I woke up for this. Until…
…he starts talking about his date and how she must’ve accused him of date rape or something because he’s saying that really, it wasn’t that bad. OK, OK, I won’t be seeing her again. Well, like, I mean, like, this was a very nice restaurant and I told her there was this dress code and she didn’t even show up with any make up. Pause (other person must’ve been responding.) I mean, don’t you know how to dress for a nice restaurant because you at least watch tv? They get dressed up on tv for dinner? Pause. No, she was not dressed properly. I thought they weren’t going to let us into the restaurant, to be sure. Pause. Well, I can assure you, I will not be seeing her again. (Ya think?? I’m lucky the cops aren’t bangin’ on my door looking for you buddy.) This dialogue about the date rape or not date rape went on well into the night. It ended with lots of likes, and well, I can assure you I will not be seeing her again.
Then, this morning, I wake up to: “Right Emma, you’re right, I’m an f—ing idiot. I didn’t take my father’s advice and now look at me.” Oh, sweet Jesus, I’ve got a live one. I’m supposed to be eating before my meeting here, but no, I’m listening to the convict next door. He starts in about the girl and how she couldn’t possibly have any upbringing to show up to a restaurant like that. How he definitely wouldn’t have tried to rape someone like that. Then he tells “Emma”, “Listen Emma, I have turned down wild passionate nights (he used other words but remember it’s a family blog) just because they had nicotine breath, so clearly I could’ve turned this one down.” But ya didn’t big guy, did ya?
Pause as room service arrives to the rapist’s room.
Coffee cups clinking.
He now must’ve put his iPod on the radio because he’s SINGING TO IT. “Gonna give you hell, gonna give you hell…” Ya think? Buddy, the only hell goin’ on is the paper thin walls and your ego. He is STILL talking to Emma as we speak saying “Emma, I’m sorry but your daughter is f—ing crazy. There’s just no two ways about it. Crazy, Emma. Crazy.” [Right, because rapists never want to touch crazy people? Is he really talking to this chic’s Mom or the Mom of the chic who set him up with this dream in the first place?] I now need to pause this story because if I don’t, I am not going to make it to my meeting. I need makeup, well, I need a lot of things. If anything else goes on here, I’ll post it, promise. This might even trump the laundry soap in terms of ratings. Oh the song changed now, this gentleman does not have the best music taste. More in my “Live From New York” segment later.
Disclaimer: I’m very busy typing so no, I have not proofed this for spelling/grammar and there probably are lots of “oks” and “so’s.” My apologies. – The Editor.
Marley,
This post is hilarious! Thanks for the great laugh and great teaching. All the best.