from this dark cold hotel room
i turn over, look at the clock and really want to cry.
on saturday night, kate and les and laura and i went down to the mayfair. it's a fantastic establishment that shows double bills for nine bucks. the venue is majestic, mainly because it's a theatre from the thirties that still feels like it's from the thirties. it's got the balconies, and the super high ceiling, and the crazy weird seating. and there's not even a door to the theatre, just a curtain to block out the light.
anyways, we went, and sat through six hours of movie. yeah. i know.
when kate and i returned home, it was close to one o'clock. we stayed up for a wee bit, and then crawled into our beds, thankful for the respite from the land of the living.
or so we thought. so i thought.
at two, people started rolling in from the bar. this is a norm for every night of the week here. usually it take them twenty minutes to fall into their beds and pass out. so i waited for the doors to quit slamming and the girls to quit screaming and the word fuck to quit echoing down the halls.
and i waited.
and i waited.
they would disappear for awhile, and then, just as i would start to finally drift off the sleep, they would come back. the slamming doors, the screaming girls, and yes, even the word fuck would return to echo down the hall, to penetrate the hazy layer of sleep i was attempting to fall into.
i start composing hate mail in my head.
"dear saturday night revellers,
first- happy belated birthday to whomever's birthday it was. i hope you had a fantastic time. owait, i know you did. you all met up at minglewood's, unplanned! imagine that! and then you came home. thank you for getting here safe. and for slamming the doors repeatedly. and for runnign down the hall screaming like a thirteen year old. oh, and let's not forget the word fuck. you know, after tonight, i don't think it will mean anything to me you've said it so much. thanks for repeatedly coming back and making a lot of noise. i really appreciate all the repsect you're showing to everyone else here on the floor.
yours in angsty hatred,
finally, i get up, walk to the door and throw it open. there's a group of maybe five, maybe seven, maybe ten people standing there. i can't tell because i don't have my glasses on, but i don't really care.
"guys," i start, my voice wavering, because really i'm almost crying. "i'm really sorry. but could you pick a room and go there? it's just really late. and i just really want to sleep."
like magic they all pile into one room, and i am given respite.
i feel like an all powerful sleep-endowing goddess. go me.