Travel Log - The Accidental Pick Up.

     A little background for those that don't know this, but I am a Flirt.  Given my druthers I will always choose to spend my time out with women than with men.  Men will inevitably turn conversations to business, politics, or sports.  I work in business, so I don't really want to dwell on it when I am relaxing.  My entire knowledge of all sports could fit between the last letter of this sentence and the period.  As to politics, I find these conversations really frustrating, so I like to avoid them. Women on the other hand I find fascinating.  They talk about relationships, their children, themselves, their jobs, food, wine, and the list goes on and on. Plus, they smell better.  I heard recently that it is healthier for a male to spend time in the company of women, versus men, and in fact it increases life expectancy!   What a wonderful benefit from doing something I already enjoy!  So this story deals with one of my many evenings out in the company of my choice, a woman.

     It was last October and I was on a trip to NYC.  I would have normally stayed in Secaucus, but my regular hotel was booked, so I ended up in a Homewood Suites in Edgewater NJ. The first night there I realized that this was an ideal location. The rooms were reasonable, I was next to an upscale mall with a Fleming's Steakhouse at the end of it, and I was an exit outside of the Lincoln Tunnel.  All in all, a wonderful place to stay. I didn't entertain on this particular trip, so I did something I rarely do, I ate at the Fleming's all 3 nights.  I sat at the bar, and noshed on some specials  they were running (see the surf and turf above), and got to know the bartenders pretty well. The story begins on my last night there.

     I arrived at Fleming's at 6:30 and seated myself at the bar.  It was the normal crowd of business folks drinking expensive cocktails, and reliving the big deals of the day.  I ordered some dinner and about halfway through an attractive African American woman seated herself next to me. She was in her 40's, had long full hair, was rounded in the right places, was wearing a blouse and a skirt and she smelled good.   She started to read a book she had brought.  I found her choice interesting, it was "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath.  I had read it and loved it some time before, so I struck up a conversation, and gradually the book was closed, but her life was opened up to me.

     Her name was Deborah and she was a regular at Flemings. She was a lawyer and she worked in the City.  She was engaged to a gentlemen who lived in Bermuda and she hoped within a year, to move there and join him.  She ordered dinner as well and we spent the better part of 2 hours talking about my family, her career, her plans to move, and of literature.  I found her to be quite articulate on a wide variety of subjects.  I can safely say that we both enjoyed each others company for the evening.  As we were about to finish, the bartender, Megin, came by and invited me to join her and her boyfriend later at a dive bar down the street.  They were having a Halloween party (Karen was going as Tinkerbell), and she thought it would be my type of place.  Deborah was also told about it, but immediately expressed some concern about the dive bar and whether there would be other Black people there or not (her words, not mine).  Megin couldn't guarantee it, but said it should be fun, it started at 11, and hoped to see us both there.  I told her I would try and I started to get up to go and to wish Deborah a good evening.  The conversation follows...

Deborah:  Bill, so do you think you will end up going to the party down there or not?

Me:  I really can't say, I'm just as likely to get caught up in my work and stay in for the night.

Deborah: Well, if you do go, would you mind calling me and maybe we could go over together?  I am not sure of the crowd. 

Me: Sure, if I go I'll call you.  

She proceeded to take a napkin, write her number on it, and fold it over once, and then twice.  She handed it to me and I put it in my shirt pocket, said my goodbyes and exited.  As I said before it was an enjoyable evening.

     I went back to my room, and hunkered down on the computer, pretending that my tortilla work was important.  I had emptied my pockets on the desk next to me and the napkin had started to unfold.  It unfolded once and then the other half unfolded a few minutes later.  I could make out a name and number in my peripheral vision, but along with it was a shape and color that seemed out of place.  I turned to look and could not have been more surprised to see a perfect pair of lips formed from lipstick kissed onto the napkin!

You could have bowled me over with a feather.  I have to say I have not been the recipient of many lipsticked kissed napkins, but I think I was correct in interpreting her action. She was not just looking for a drinking buddy.  I actually laughed out loud and tried to replay our conversations back in my head.  Let's see, I said I was married, I had my ring on (I always do) , she was engaged, I showed pictures of my kids, she showed me one of her fiancee, I think I had it covered.  I could think of no specific thing that I had said or done that might have been misinterpreted, but there it was on the desk. The fruits of my labor for the evening, the promise of the affection of a beautiful woman, and only a phone call away. Now to say I wasn't tempted would be a lie, I am human and testosterone driven.  How then did I avoid this temptation?   I can't say it better than the incomparable Johnny Cash did...

As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line

There was no decision to be made, I threw the napkin in the hotel trash and missed a great party (I actually thought about bringing it home to show Char, so she could have a good laugh too, but then I thought, what if she finds it before I can tell her the story? So, into the trash it went).  I can be stupid, but I wasn't that night.  I can't think of a better way to end the story than with a link to Johnny singing the song.  Look hard at it, I swear Drew Carey is slapping da bass next to him.  Oh, and if you are ever in Bermuda, and you run into Deborah,  please offer her my apologies, Hell show her this blog, or better yet a picture of my wife.  Enjoy the link.

Johnny Cash - I walk the line