So we are in NYC right, and all we have done for 3 days is drink. That and walk. We spend this one afternoon cracking jokes with the hotel barmaid. We bring the laughs; she pours the drinks. This girl is hot stuff; her eyes sparkle as she giggles. I’m erect.
Jimmy is hammered. He flips a drink, trips over his feet, says enough is enough and heads back to the room for a siesta. I’m happy for him to do so. It gives me a clear chance at the girl.
The charm rolls from my tongue like pure magic; she’s loving it. I’m almost in the end zone when suddenly there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see this black hulk. He stares at me, “you a guest at this hotel Sir?” Hotel security, reports of a disturbance on the 5th floor.
Instinctively I know this involves broken brains. He has a track record of fuck-ups. The bouncer accompanies me to the elevator. We exit to find a half dozen Yanks stood over my friend, he’s laid out flat in the corridor, key card in his hand.
“I know CPR,” screams some fuckwit as he dashes to the scene. The guest medic gets down into position as my tolerance packs up and leaves. I stick the boot into Jimmy’s ribs, “no heart attack here, just a drunken clown.” Somehow they don’t get the British humour, unlike the barmaid.
I toe poke my friend in the temple. Somebody shrieks. I smell a lawsuit in the air.
“Let’s get him inside,” says the doorman as he scoops him up. I grab the key card. The hulk throws Jimmy face down on the bed.
“Shows over folks,” I slam the door towards their gawping faces.
Downstairs at the bar I slide back into the flow; beer and best chat up lines. “Is your friend ok,” she asks.
No he’s not, in fact now I think of it, he never was.
“Sir, I need to speak with you again.” It’s the hulk. “Your friend Sir, he’s wandering the corridor naked now.”
I’m no longer erect…
D&O in Fresno