My Big Head
Friday morning, I realized that I was supposed to be in Charlotte, NC. I had not packed and had under six hours to get there.
I threw the essentials into a suitcase. Shoes, dental floss, laptop, camera, iPod, and my vibrator. I am responsible, so I also packed all of the corresponding charging units and AA batteries. I called the pet sitter and reminded him that it is not necessary to add eight inches of kitty litter to the litter box as the cat's legs are only four inches long. I even got an oil change. I felt like a real grown up.
When I checked into the hotel, the reservation agent informed me that a convention of cardiologists was in the hotel for the weekend. Then, he gave me two key cards. This did not make me feel slutty at all. It was like he had known me forever. I requested a nonsmoking room because although I smoke, I do not like to sleep in the stagnant stench left behind by the previous smokers. I smoke in the designated areas, like the bathroom.
Saturday, I woke up early and went to the hotel bar. The bar was vacant, as apparently the trendy thing to do in the morning is eat breakfast. I asked what kind of wine would be good with cornflakes. The bartender gave me a pitying look, so I ordered vodka instead. He had no sense of humor. The cornflakes part was a joke. I don't eat cornflakes. They look like scabs.
Because I am magnetic, a man took a seat at the bar next to me. He was sitting on my good side; the side that doesn't get a pimple on my cheek every month. He was enthralled. He stared. I pretended to check my email. He stared. I became self-conscious. I began to develop a fabulous pick up line about a pacemaker.
Finally, he spoke. "Excuse me, I'm not trying to stare, but I can't see the highlights of the game around you."
And just like that, I was crushed.
Men need to know that this is not a good approach. He should have told me that he was trying to watch the highlights of the game, but could not overlook my long, fabulous eyelashes. I would have coyly ducked my head and he would have had a perfect view of ESPN. I told him my theory and he strained his neck to look around my big head. I like a man with determination.
I had forgotten my pacemaker line, so I lit a cigarette. He was one of those cardiologists that thinks that smoking is bad for you. He waved the smoke away to that he could see the TV better. I talked to him until he asked the bartender to turn up the volume on the television. He was so into me. I can read between the lines.
I left my key card on the bar and went back to my room to put on mascara and slip into something less comfortable, but much more alluring. I practiced my come hither look in the mirror. I casually sprawled across the bed and waited. For hours. Housekeeping came and left quickly after I insisted that I didn't need help with the handcuffs. He never showed up.
I wish I had remembered that pacemaker line.