These April showers are pissing me off, as I sit huddled on a cold banquette in a winter coat screaming to be cleaned and put away.
Seems the heat is on the fritz at Bemelmans.
Is no place a haven anymore?
Brandy…brandy…another brandy, please. Visa, who just got her legs back, is once again incapacitated. But when you try your best living in the moment, what else can you do when you’re caught in the cold cruising up the Avenue, in kitten heels, no less.
Laurie, the barmaid with a wool scarf tied around her neck, assures me the heat will be on momentarily. Yeah, after living in a building with a drunken boiler for 40 years, I’ve heard that one before.
“Yes, if I’m gonna freeze to death, salt is the least I can warm myself with.” So what if my Tinnitus is off the charts. Tinnitus is the fancy term for ringing in ones ears, and salt, its enemy. Suddenly you feel as if you’re standing on the tarmac like in the film, Casablanca, as Ilsa and Victor Laszlo board the plane to Lisbon.
What am I talking about?
Directly in front of me, sits a young girl in a sleeveless dress and sandals. Have I missed something? I’m shaking all over while she looks as if she’s in Palm Beach.
Must be age, this chill with no thrill. She’s also drinking a colorful cocktail with enough ice to attract a polar bear. Youth…not only do I not understand it, I can’t even remember it.
I’m going to be 62 with a body temperature rivaling a trout’s. I used to be so warmblooded needing nothing but a cardigan in assorted pastel colors. Now I’m wearing tights over tights over L.L Bean silk underwear in a twilight blue, that let’s face it, seems no coincidence.
I’m not even sure Lolita is wearing undies the way her legs are splayed like a naughty nutcracker.
“The heat’s on,” announces Laurie, removing her scarf with dramatic flair.
I have a sudden urge to ask for soup but can’t bring myself to come off that geriatric.
“Any poached salmon available Laurie?” Visa groaning, but too bad.
“Of course, a staple here at the Carlyle.”
Like I didn’t know that. So what will it be Susannah?
Saving face, or paying your Con-Ed bill.
Hey, who the fuck needs lights, really, when you come right down to it.