So Buckhead was a mad house. Traffic was horrendous. The line of cars in the queue for valet into the W Buckhead stretched out to Peachtree Road. And one by one I saw the couples emerge from SUVs, red sports cars, and some were more mature couples pulling themselves out of station wagons with kid’s toys flooding their back windows. The couples themselves were a mixture of smiling, some clutching one another, others distant and quiet.
The valet ran up to my car when it was my turn.
“Checking in?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is it just you, sir?” he asked as we switched – and I stood and he took my drivers seat.
“Yes.” And I thought about making a joke about being alone but then I thought to myself that maybe the joke would be on me.
The lines at the check-in counter were large as well. Everyone came equipped with small bags – a couple of articles to just spend a single romantic night together.
I was the only one who stood alone.
A lady with a slight Russian accent with a name tag reading Alexandra ushered me forward. “You by yourself, Mister Jackson?”
“Yes.” And not that hearing it twice already, I repeated it aloud, “Yep, all alone.”
She smiled and winked. “Well, I don’t think you will have a problem finding somebody to keep your warm for Valentine’s Night.”
I let out a breath. “Well, I don’t think Saint Valentine had that in mind when he created this holiday for the Hallmark Card company.”
She smiled a little.
“It would be renamed as Hook Up Night or One Night Day where everybody feels guilty and disgusting the next day. And the patron saint would be Ron Jeremy.”
She laughed hard.
continue reading on SoulParking.com
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment