Another Day, Another Hotel
Chateau Marmont
We got to the hotel a while ago.
“So are your kids going to come down?’ Gerard says as we’re loitering in the hotel lobby. At least this time. All of us are getting rooms, not to mention the hotel’s pretty upscale.
“It’s like a nine hour drive from Oakland to here,” I say, leaning on a table I probably shouldn’t be. “So, no.”
“Oh,” he says.
“Plus, we’re only here for like, two days,” I say.
“Is California really that big?” he asks.
“It takes up two thirds of the whole length of the west coast,” I say. “Yeah, most people don’t realize it takes two days driving to get from the top to the bottom.”
“Holy shit,” he says. “It takes like three hours or something to cover Jersey.”
“Yeah, well, Jersey sucks,” I laugh, picking up my shit top go hang on Adrienne.
“Don’t hang on me<” she says when she sees me approaching her.
“You don’t know that’s what I was going to do,” I mumble.
“I know that’s exactly what you were going to do,” she says.
“Nuh-uh,” I say.
“Yuh-huh,” she says. “Are we close to getting a room?” she motions over to our tour managers duking it out with the desk staff. I don’t know why they don’t figure this shit out before we get here.
“I don't know why they don’t figure out this stuff beforehand,” she says.
“Holy shit. I was just thinking that,” I cackle and wiggle my fingers at her face.
“Yeah, sure,” she laughs. “But I really have to go to the bathroom and apparently this hotel is too good for lobby bathrooms.”
“Bastards,” I say. “I would figure that in a hotel this swanky, they’d have a bathroom.”
“Swanky?” she laughs. “What the hell kind of word is that?”
“What?” I say defensively. “It’s a word.”
“It’s not a you word,” she says putting her hands on her hips.
“A ‘me’ word?”
“Yes, a you word…” when I just stare at her, she continues, ticking them off on her fingers. “Nowadays, uh, you know…”
“Whatever,” I scoff, though I secretly love it when she makes fun of me.
“Oh, like, you know, I, like, hate people, you know, from, uh, Southern California, you know,” she mocks me.
“Yeah,” I say. “You keep telling yourself I talk like that.”
“Oh, I will,” she says. “Because it’s true.”
“Yeah, fine,” I say, noticing the tour manager coming over to us. He sticks a hotel key card thing out to me.
“Room 260,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say, dragging my shit and Adrienne towards the lobby elevator.
“Lazy,” she mumbles.
“What?”
“Taking the elevator,” she says, doing a piss poor job of not laughing as she steps into the elevator.
“I’m lazy, huh? I don’t see you taking the stairs.”
“Laaaaa-zy,” she says in a singsong-y voice and pushing the elevator door close button and letting out her laughter as the elevator doors slide shut.
“No!” I whine, banging on the door, much of the chagrin of the lobby employees. They shoot me dirty looks. The doors are probably made of solid gold or something, in a hotel like this. Oh well.
“So are your kids going to come down?’ Gerard says as we’re loitering in the hotel lobby. At least this time. All of us are getting rooms, not to mention the hotel’s pretty upscale.
“It’s like a nine hour drive from Oakland to here,” I say, leaning on a table I probably shouldn’t be. “So, no.”
“Oh,” he says.
“Plus, we’re only here for like, two days,” I say.
“Is California really that big?” he asks.
“It takes up two thirds of the whole length of the west coast,” I say. “Yeah, most people don’t realize it takes two days driving to get from the top to the bottom.”
“Holy shit,” he says. “It takes like three hours or something to cover Jersey.”
“Yeah, well, Jersey sucks,” I laugh, picking up my shit top go hang on Adrienne.
“Don’t hang on me<” she says when she sees me approaching her.
“You don’t know that’s what I was going to do,” I mumble.
“I know that’s exactly what you were going to do,” she says.
“Nuh-uh,” I say.
“Yuh-huh,” she says. “Are we close to getting a room?” she motions over to our tour managers duking it out with the desk staff. I don’t know why they don’t figure this shit out before we get here.
“I don't know why they don’t figure out this stuff beforehand,” she says.
“Holy shit. I was just thinking that,” I cackle and wiggle my fingers at her face.
“Yeah, sure,” she laughs. “But I really have to go to the bathroom and apparently this hotel is too good for lobby bathrooms.”
“Bastards,” I say. “I would figure that in a hotel this swanky, they’d have a bathroom.”
“Swanky?” she laughs. “What the hell kind of word is that?”
“What?” I say defensively. “It’s a word.”
“It’s not a you word,” she says putting her hands on her hips.
“A ‘me’ word?”
“Yes, a you word…” when I just stare at her, she continues, ticking them off on her fingers. “Nowadays, uh, you know…”
“Whatever,” I scoff, though I secretly love it when she makes fun of me.
“Oh, like, you know, I, like, hate people, you know, from, uh, Southern California, you know,” she mocks me.
“Yeah,” I say. “You keep telling yourself I talk like that.”
“Oh, I will,” she says. “Because it’s true.”
“Yeah, fine,” I say, noticing the tour manager coming over to us. He sticks a hotel key card thing out to me.
“Room 260,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say, dragging my shit and Adrienne towards the lobby elevator.
“Lazy,” she mumbles.
“What?”
“Taking the elevator,” she says, doing a piss poor job of not laughing as she steps into the elevator.
“I’m lazy, huh? I don’t see you taking the stairs.”
“Laaaaa-zy,” she says in a singsong-y voice and pushing the elevator door close button and letting out her laughter as the elevator doors slide shut.
“No!” I whine, banging on the door, much of the chagrin of the lobby employees. They shoot me dirty looks. The doors are probably made of solid gold or something, in a hotel like this. Oh well.