Personal & Gender Issues Posted by James Killus, 10 Sep 2007 05:07 am

Dragon Blood

OK, there was this time in college, I was dating a girl named Rhoda, and she invited me home for a weekend, and so I thought … no way am I telling that one.

–Jon Carroll, San Francisco Chronicle

There are some stories that I can’t just change the names and get away with it. Probably the most important part of that is that the individuals involved would still recognize themselves, and it would, despite all attempts at anonymity, still be an invasion of privacy. Some stories are just too intrinsically personal.

Moreover, there are some bits of personal history, that, no matter how much I might try to take all the blame for whatever bad things happen, it wouldn’t be enough, and other people would be shown in a bad light. I’m not always against that, mind you, but sometimes I am, especially when I had too great a hand in the unfortunate events.

And sometimes, making a story more generic removes all its flavor. At that point, there’s no reason to tell the thing in the first place. That’s one of the places where you opt for out-and-out fiction, keeping the flavor, but creating new characters for all the events, and distancing the events by wrapping them in the outlandish, putting them in the future, for example, or having them occur while there is a serial killer on the rampage. Even that is a risk, of course. Sometime people still recognize themselves in your fiction; sometimes they do so before the writer does. Tough. That’s the biz, baby.

The one I’m about to tell takes generification to some sort of limit, I think, but there are some philosophical points that I’ll get at, probably not the most important things in the real story, but the only nuggets that I can pull from this stream at this time.

In the early 1980s, I had my heart broken by a woman who had no idea at the time that she was doing it. That can happen when you carry a torch in sufficient secrecy for long enough.

It was hardly the first time I’d had my heart broken. If you’re still single in your thirties and haven’t had your heart broken a few times, you’re really not trying very hard at life. Still, this particular one felt different. It didn’t have the feeling of failed infatuation, for one thing. It didn’t damage my self-confidence that way a humiliating heartbreak does. Rather, there was a deep sense of loss that I couldn’t fully plumb, and a feeling that my future had somehow changed. It was some combination of freedom and being adrift.

Maybe it’s only hindsight, but I also had the feeling that I was in for some trouble. Or maybe that I was about to go looking for trouble.

When you really want to get into trouble, (and by “you” I mean “me”), the best enabler is usually a woman. That’s my drug of choice anyway. It only took me a few months to find the right one. I’ll call her June, which is obviously not her name at all; I’ve never dated a June.

Okay, here, massive generic evasion. I am not going to give any specific details about why June was trouble. I’ll note that, between the first time I met her, and the time we’d agreed to have lunch, something really bad happened to her, so she missed our first lunch date. I’ll also stipulate that you aren’t likely to figure out what that “really bad something” was, so don’t bother trying to guess. Just realize that, when I heard about it, I knew that the danger content of knowing her had just gone up by several orders of magnitude, and that we were going to become lovers, and that it would end badly.

There is an absolutely brilliant sequence in Alan Moore’s groundbreaking comic Watchmen, concerning Dr. Manhattan, who is the only character in the book with truly superhuman powers. Okay, Ozymandias can catch bullets as a bit of a trick, but Dr. Manhattan can teleport, transmute elements, and be in several places at once. He also experiences time, his own personal history, all at once, so he can foretell the future. At one point, he takes his girlfriend to Mars, and makes a reference to a time, several minutes in the future, when she surprises him with the information that she’s having an affair with another hero.

Then, several minutes in the future, she mentions the affair, and Dr. Manhattan is surprised. He knew what was coming, but he was still surprised when it happened.

He has to be surprised sometime, and that was the time, even if he knew about it in advance.

So I knew it was temporary and that June was going to dump me at some point; I even told that to a close friend when she asked me about the relationship (out of concern for my well-being, bless her). Furthermore, I’ll even suggest that whatever attempts I’d made to cushion that eventual blow, made the breakup even worse, because it added to the degree to which I was culpable, and it meant that I’d not been as good a person as my own ego ideal would like to believe. Some of the attraction had been that I was playing white knight, and instead I seemed to have a bit of dragon blood in me, as it were.

And it hurt. It really, really hurt. All the pain and humiliation that I hadn’t felt with the original heartbreak, well, I made up for it when June dumped me. And, just as an indication of the original, obvious danger content, it wasn’t a clean break, and couldn’t be, because circumstances meant that I still saw her on a regular basis.

Pretty good job of it, eh?

Okay now, the bit of philosophical payoff that I referred to earlier.

I’ve been following various feminist discussions on the net for quite a while, from even before what is now called teh blogosphere. And one of the issues that comes up frequently is the “nice guys don’t get laid,” discussion, also known as “Why do good girls like bad boys?” (from the song by Angel and the Reruns, in the Tom Hanks movie Bachelor Party). There are plenty of snarky things said about guys who say this, and rightfully so. The gist of the rightful snark is that being shy and insecure is not the same as being a “nice guy” and exactly why is being “nice” supposed to be rewarded by sex? That expectation, in fact, sounds like something other than “nice,” doesn’t it?

As a critique of male hypocrisy, the argument is spot on. I’ll stipulate that I agree with it.

However, after the episode with June, after the initial acute pain and humiliation wore off, I found myself in a state that combined pain and anger. Neither of those was intense, and I was raised well, and I’m a polite fellow. But there’s plenty of psychic energy in both pain and anger, and the mix is potent.

And I was catnip to women. They sat down next to me at lunch counters and struck up conversations. They latched onto me at parties and invited me home. They asked me to walk them to their cars from bars and they gave me their phone numbers. They invited me up to their rooms at conventions.

Okay, I was also in my early thirties, employed at a good, high status job, and I’d been practicing Aikido and doing weight training, so I’d filled out an astonishingly thin (in college I was just over 6 feet tall and weighed 130 lbs) with an extra 15-20 lbs of muscle. I was blond with dark black eyebrows and dark beard (since gone to gray) and had a sardonic look. So it wasn’t as if I’d somehow gone to sleep one night as a pimply geek and woke up the next as some sort of hunk. I’d never been unattractive physically, and I’d been complimented on my appearance before, and I wasn’t anything approaching a “30 year old virgin.”

But this was new, and I found it very easy to take advantage. Moreover, there were at least a couple of occasions where I was, by my lights anyway, something of a bastard. And it was expected of me, as nearly as I can tell. The women expected it, and, for all I know, would have been disappointed if I hadn’t acted that way.

It wore off after a while. The pain and anger faded, and I’m not very good at the bastard part anyway. But I can’t say that I didn’t have fun, because I did. And I hope that the women involved enjoyed it half as much as I did, because then it was worth their while as well. They got to play with what was, when all is said and done, a pretty tame monster, to no lasting damage. I suspect that’s the purpose, in fact. We all like to think that we can tame the monster, and there’s really only the one door. It leads to both the Lady and the Tiger, and they are one and the same.

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Responses to “Dragon Blood”

  1. on 10 Sep 2007 at 9:23 am 1. Oaktown Girl said …

    Why James, you old lady killer, you! No wonder Spam Filter doesn’t like you around his wife. I like your idea about behind the door is both the Tiger and the Lady.

    Well, it’s easy to see how you got yourself into that mess. I wish you felt free to reveal a little bit more about how it unraveled and ultimately ended. Simply “doomed from the start” is so unsatisfying, you know?

  2. on 10 Sep 2007 at 10:05 am 2. James Killus said …

    It unraveled because of the usual “refusal to commit” plus some other relationships that I had that she misinterpreted. She then found someone who was “willing to commit” who, of course, left her after a couple of years. She and I worked hard at remaining friends and managed to remain so to this day, though I have vowed to beat the crap out of the other fellow if I ever see him again, mostly to make sure I never see him again.

    More (but very different) bad things happened to her later down the line, but then bad things happen, don’t they? She’s doing okay now and has a spouse who is well suited to her, so “everything worked out for the best” and everyone “learned important life lessons,” but to paraphrase Harvey Pekar, there are plenty of times I’d rather trade the lessons for being happy.

  3. on 10 Sep 2007 at 12:20 pm 3. christian h. said …

    to paraphrase Harvey Pekar, there are plenty of times I’d rather trade the lessons for being happy.

    You are so right - this needs to be said.

  4. on 10 Sep 2007 at 3:05 pm 4. Seattle said …

    Hmmm. It’s always interesting to hear that story from the man’s side. I feel like I just listened to a song from Snow Patrol. “just because it was wrong doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it at the time” or words to that effect. I’m curious as to the conclusion that no lasting harm was done. Are we to conclude that all of these women were damaged before they came in contact with the “tame monster”, or that since the impact was minimal for you, therefore it must have been minimal for them as well?

  5. on 10 Sep 2007 at 6:35 pm 5. spyder said …

    Having been described by some of my good lifeguard friends as a “damn cold heartless bastard”(both James McMurtry and Lucinda Williams have toured with the Heartless Bastards by the way) for treating women so carelessly and heartlessly during my late 20’s, and as someone with four ex-wives, five children, and eight grandkids, i have had more than my share of interrelations with the feminine. Among some of those relating experiences was my long time (addiction you called it?) fascination with what we Lakota call Black-tailed Deer Woman.

    Our version of this mythic construct, one that also appears among many of the first nations living on this continent, suggests that there will always come into our lives a trickster elemental who will appear as the most beautiful and soulful of the embodiment of women. They are powerful seducers, capable of leading any male away from their: relationships, family, clan, band, etc., and then destroying them. They have a fine perfume made from their blood and their hooves that casts a magical, evil-spell on men; that even dreaming about them later can cause death and/or actually trying to have sexual relations with them leads to insanity and death for sure.

    It was not until i learned this story in the early 70’s that i could make sense of some of my experiences during high school, and on through my undergraduate, and then graduate years. Consumed i was by the abandonment i felt at the hands (hooves?) of these stunningly beautiful and attractive women for whom i lusted in my dreams, and ever so much in my daily waking life; and for whom, i thought, i had made sacrifices (forsaking my own “real” relationships). I can still name some of the most impactful of the Deer Women who have come into my life; i believe i was most fortunate to have survived them as i did. I still encounter them, only now i know who and what they are, and have learned to admire them from afar for their powers. I do avoid any thoughts or dreams of being with them, and often remind myself not to turn and let my eyes spend too much time focussed on them.

  6. on 10 Sep 2007 at 8:15 pm 6. James Killus said …

    Seattle,

    It has honestly never occurred to me to consider any of the women as “damaged,” (June being a special case that I’ve indicated I feel compunctions about describing in any detail). I would use words like “adventurous” or in some cases, simply desirous of a relationship that might have some sexual and or emotional content, but who weren’t looking for a mate at that particular time. I’ve certainly known women who got exasperated when some fling or another decided that he wanted to get “serious,” or possessive, and I assume I wasn’t giving off either of those vibes.

    The fact is that when we are young and foolish and trying to figure out how everything works (because god knows, there aren’t any manuals that have any accuracy to them) we do things that hurt us and hurt other people, often inadvertantly. There are plenty of things that I’ve done that I’m ashamed of, even (or maybe especially) if they were done in ignorance. But this particular period doesn’t have many of those, mostly, I think, because everyone pretty much knew what they were getting into, and no one was asking for more than the other was prepared to give.

    But damaged? I was of the opinion that they were women of very high quality, and I can’t think of a one of them that I wasn’t proud to know or be seen with. It wasn’t the women that I was angry at.

  7. on 11 Sep 2007 at 2:17 pm 7. Oaktown Girl said …

    I’m not a drama queen, and tend to go out of my way to avoid drama, especially as far as relationships go. But careful as you might be, there’s always that “red flag” that slips by you because you’ve never encountered it and don’t recognize it when you see it.

    So that’s what happened to me this one time. I can say without any hesitation that this dude was severely damaged, and I was in it hip deep before I even knew what hit me. Praise Gojira Sheriff Kiera isn’t here this week, or I’d have to endure her “I told you so” business, except this time on a public, world-wide format.

    It wasn’t like James’ relationship, which seems like something out of the movie Pulp Fiction. My relationship with this guy was more like the train wreck scene from The Fugitive. Well, that’s kind of a lie. It was exactly like the train wreck scene from The Fugitive:

    I don’t recall my exact thinking going into it. I think I knew he wasn’t likely to be “the one”, but that it could be a fun fling or something. Perhaps I knew there might be some problems down the line, but nothing I couldn’t, ahem, “control”. (Ha!) View that video clip above, and then imaging the train, after the initial gargantuan crash, getting back on the tracks, throwing itself into reverse, and backing up over me as well.

  8. on 11 Sep 2007 at 4:39 pm 8. Seattle said …

    Good Lord Almighty. If only my train wrecks ended that quickly.

  9. on 11 Sep 2007 at 5:26 pm 9. Oaktown Girl said …

    Roger that, Seattle. But even this one wasn’t exactly “quick”. Like I said, just when I thought I was in the clear (though still quite traumatized), the train found a way to re-rail itself and back-up over me…in an even more brutal fashion then the first hit. Oh, and I neglected to mention that there was third hit too (a very public hit), which left me physically ill to boot. Apparently, the main reason for the train backing up over me was so that it could run me over from the front again. Mind you, none of this back and forth was part of an attempted reconciliation (I’m not that stupid). It was all part of one, single break-up train wreck, if you can fathom it.

    Lesson learned: “possible trouble down the line” = “massive trouble down the line”, = cannot, CANNOT, be controlled.

    But granted, that’s very different than disasters that last several years. I wouldn’t call those train wrecks, though. Those call for a different metaphor - more death by a 1,000 cuts type o’ dealio.

  10. on 11 Sep 2007 at 7:04 pm 10. Zeus said …

    Point One: An interesting question– Why, if we already know about the trouble to hit, do we choose it? Going back to James’s example of Dr. Manhattan. It seems we have a compulsion to experience what we “know”, to somehow complete that knowledge. (And if anyone mentions that damned Jerry McGuire line, I’m comin’ after ya., speakin’ a dragon blood.) Now I’ve been pretty damned naive most of my life. The simple things confuse me (though I’m getting better at that), and the complex things I find rather easy. I’ve gone with women who have admitted that they have had boyfriends simply up an leave without a forwarding address (well, one woman anyway). Can you say, “Run screaming.” But even past the “white knight” bunkum and other psychological or New Age explanations (”you simply chose that experience”… like heck I did!) is a certain need to confirm and put behind one what does not, in fact, work. Somehow, maybe there is a seed in us that says “you don’t know what you have, until its present, then gone, and then you find someone sane, reasonable, and loving.”

    Point Two: The thing that combines the male nerd with the dangerous rebel (looks and bed-ableness aside) is that both are looking for action, not really love. Both want to get some. To the first it comes as a surprise; to the second a kind of confirmation (of what I’m not sure). Even a nerd can be attractive if he is not simply wooden, predictable, boring, or weak. But even if one is witty or dangerous, these are all plays. I think the point of love is to get beyond “plays” to “play”, in the moment enjoyment of someone else, who is healthy, who doesn’t have everything figured out, who is willing to see where things might go, and who is neither optimistic nor pessimistic, but merely creative.

    The thing that combines all “plays” and expectation of the future, is its functionalism, its whiff of control and either aggressive or passive-aggressive arrogance. What happened to enjoying someone and see where it might go? What happened to saying, “Man that was screwed up. Whatya doin’?” As I get older (no elder, yet) I have less tolerance for drama. What drama has to show me, it has shown me. I can accept pain, and confusion, and anger. I don’t have to package it or hold on to it or detach from it. This is life. And there isn’t really much more to it, accept agreeing to have you wits about you, be aware, and see where it leads.

    Citizen Zeus

  11. on 11 Sep 2007 at 7:47 pm 11. James Killus said …

    When in doubt…

    I watched you walk into the room
    I wanna say this just right
    If you ain’t waiting for somebody special
    Would you be with me tonight?
    I’m a doctor I’m a lawyer
    I’m a movie star I’m an astronaut
    And I own this bar

    And I would lie to you for your love
    Yes I’d lie to you for your love
    I’d lie to you for your love
    And that’s the truth

    I could tell you what you wanna hear
    And some secrets about myself
    I could tell you you’re the only one
    And there could never be nobody else
    I’m a doctor I’m a lawyer
    I’m a movie star I’m an astronaut
    And I own this bar

    And I would lie to you for your love
    Yes I’d lie to you for your love
    I’d lie to you for your love
    And that’s the truth

    The Bellamy Brothers (Frankie Miller/D & H Bellamy/Jeff Barry)

    I’ve known some painted ladies
    That sparkled in the light
    Country girls that loved the lover’s moon
    Some I never really knew
    Though I always wanted to
    Some I only met once in a room

    Some say they like my smile
    Others of them stayed a while
    While others left me on the run
    This is the only way
    Only way I have to say
    I loved them every one

    Big little or short or tall
    Wish I could’ve kept them all
    I loved them every one
    Like to thank them for their charms
    Holding me in their arms
    And I hope they had some fun

    Here’s to the ladies
    In saloons and living rooms
    Summer nights that lasted ’til the dawn
    Here’s to the memories
    Every one’s a part of me
    Oh I loved them each and every one

    Big little or short or tall
    Wish I could’ve kept them all
    I loved them every one
    Like to thank them for their charms
    Holding me in their arms
    And I hope they had some fun

    I LOVE’D THEM EVERY ONE
    Words & Music : Phil Sampson
    recorded by T. G. Sheppard

    And let me just say that there’s action and there’s action, and there’s also such a thing as curiosity, which is the other side of mystery, which is part of the universe of Romance.

    You don’t know what she means to me
    She’s a heart that beats close to me
    And gettin’ back to the way I feel
    Her honest word is my only real thing
    When she comes to me then I feel fine
    And I’m not afraid but so gratified
    Emerald eyes is a mystery
    Starin’ through to the heart of me
    Find, emerald eyes in the night
    Gleamin’ shiny and bright
    As if covered with silver
    She’s still a mystery to me
    The way she sails away slow
    Makes your day to day life easy
    Emerald eyes is a mystery
    She’s my place of serenity
    And gettin’ back to the way I feel
    Her honest word is my only real thing
    Only an honest word, maybe a sky report
    Could be a weather bird it was so close to me
    Emerald eyes is a mystery
    She’s my place of serenity

    (Bob Welch) Fleetwood Mac “Mystery to Me” (1973)

  12. on 12 Sep 2007 at 9:34 am 12. Oaktown Girl said …

    Zeus: What happened to enjoying someone and see where it might go?

    You betcha. That’s pretty much where my head was at with Train Wreck Guy. I don’t even really remember if I was thinking “possible trouble down the line” or not, because that usually sends me running the other direction, as I do hate drama so much. I knew he probably wasn’t “The One”, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy each other’s company, right? Well, anyway, I learned about a whole new mess of “red flags” I never knew about before, and hopefully won’t miss in the future.

    James: there’s also such a thing as curiosity, which is the other side of mystery.

    Nicely put. And I would just say that at a certain stage of life, it is nice, (in most cases), if we have some awareness about what we are entering into, and why we are choosing to do so.

  13. on 12 Sep 2007 at 11:13 am 13. Seattle said …

    People are naive. We waffle between two ideals: “the one” and “playing has no real consequences”. Many of us have moved into a social belief that “playing” can morph into “the one” which I like to think of as similar to joining a jam band with the secret hope that we all actually want to be doing 5 gigs a week at the local venue of choice and will progress to that in short order. And the human ability to “remember most of them fondly” reminds me a lot of the human female’s ability for selectively forgetting the worst aspects of childbirth, so that the species might continue to procreate. : )

    Personally, I think playing with no consequences leads to emotional isolation-good, bad or indifferent. Since pop-psychology is all about setting limits, distancing from drama, etc., that would seem to be good. But individually and as a society, what do we do with all those walking wounded out there wandering through one train wreck generating interaction after another? (No reference to MOJ personally intended.)

  14. on 12 Sep 2007 at 12:12 pm 14. Oaktown Girl said …

    Seattle - I hope you weren’t reading “playing with no consequences” into my comments. That’s certainly not what I said or meant. Everything has consequences, we all know that. However, not every “consequence” is “bad” (some are even quite good), and not every consequence becomes a massive big fucking train wreck. And even being on the highest alert for red flags won’t always spare you because life always throws something new at you that you’ve never seen before. You can do your best to be “smart”, but there is no such thing as “safe” (which is on my “things to post about” list).

    And I hope we’re all mature enough here to know that when I use the term “the one”, I’m not talking about some fairy tale ideal. I just simply mean a “serious” relationship (and “serious” is another term with pitfalls, so you can’t win). And I damn sure don’t ever think I can “change” anyone.

    As I found out later, my train wreck guy needed serious therapy, primarily from “daddy abandonment” issues. Unfortunately, the only “therapy” he ever got in his life was a Christian minister patting him on the head telling him it wasn’t his fault. Well, duh, but that doesn’t help much, does it?

  15. on 12 Sep 2007 at 1:12 pm 15. Seattle said …

    (No reference to [the] MOJ personally intended.)
    (No reference to [the] MOJ personally intended.)
    (No reference to [the] MOJ personally intended.)

    Actually, I tend to hear guys use the term “the one” more than women.

  16. on 12 Sep 2007 at 1:47 pm 16. Oaktown Girl said …

    Well excuuuuuuuuusse me. I thought you were just referring to the “wandering train wreck” stuff when you said no reference to me personally.

  17. on 12 Sep 2007 at 2:42 pm 17. Seattle said …

    No-if I want to shake my finger at you personally, I don’t have to do it on a public blog, Oaktown Girl. ; ) That’s Kiera’s job…. LOL Besides, given my enduring death by a thousand cuts, there’s no point in, well, pointing fingers. I really did like that clip from “The Fugitive,” by the way-I’ve never seen the movie.

  18. on 12 Sep 2007 at 2:55 pm 18. Oaktown Girl said …

    Glad you liked the clip…wish it wasn’t so appropriate for the topic! And there’s nothing like seeing that particular train wreck on the big screen, but a home screen will do. Excellent popcorn movie. You and the kids will enjoy it lots.

  19. on 12 Sep 2007 at 3:38 pm 19. spyder said …

    Some how this thread is remind me of this song by Lucinda Williams (and while it is probably a good thing she seems to have finally found a loving human being who cares to take the time necessary to connect on all levels with her, such a relationship risks her future as someone who can tell all us men how much pain and heartache, and pieces of shit we are):

    You say there’s always gonna be this thing
    Between us days are filled with dreams
    Scorpions crawl across my screen
    Make their home beneath my skin
    Underneath my dress stick their tongues
    Bite through flesh down to the bone
    And I have been so fuckin’ alone
    Since those three days

    Did you only want me for those three days?
    Did you only need me for those three days?
    Did you love me forever
    just for those three days?

    You built a nest inside my soul
    You rest your head on leaves of gold
    You managed to crawl inside my brain
    You found a hole and in you came
    You sleep like a baby breathing
    Comfortably between truth and pain
    But the truth is nothing’s been the same
    Since those three days

    Did you only want me for those three days?
    Did you only need me for those three days?
    Did you love me forever
    just for those three days?

    You say there’s always gonna be this thing
    Between us days are filled with dreams
    Scorpions crawl across my screen
    Make their home beneath my skin
    Underneath my dress stick their tongues
    Bite through flesh down to the bone
    And I have been so fuckin’ alone
    You built a nest inside my soul
    You rest your head on leaves of gold
    You managed to crawl inside my brain
    You found a hole and in you came
    You sleep like a baby breathing
    Comfortably between truth and pain
    But the truth is nothing’s been the same
    Since those three days

    Did you only want me for those three days?
    Did you only need me for those three days?
    Did you love me forever
    just for those three days, baby?

    Did you only want me for those three days?
    Did you only need me for those three days?
    Did you love me forever
    just for those three days?

    For those three days

    Just For those three days

  20. on 12 Sep 2007 at 4:55 pm 20. Seattle said …

    Jees. That’s good for a flashback or two.

  21. on 12 Sep 2007 at 9:39 pm 21. James Killus said …

    Oh jeez, heartbreak songs

    If you’ve got a picture of your face,
    Could you leave it on your way out the door?
    I don’t care if it’s color or black and white.
    I just need something to remember you by.

    Oh, before my life (went dim), before my life went dim.
    Oh, before my life (went dim), before my life went dim.
    No one told me the trouble I was in
    before my life went dim.

    I painted half my face all green.
    Don’t you know I painted half my face blue.
    In hopes of showing you, both sides of me,
    both sides of me.
    I guess it came down to, don’t you love me?
    Don’t you love me?

    Can’t this car go any faster?
    Can’t this car go any faster?
    Can’t this car go any faster?
    Can’t this car go, cause I can still see where I am.

    Oh, before my life (went dim), before my life went dim.
    Oh, before my life (went dim), before my life went dim.
    You should’ve told me the trouble I was in
    before my life went dim.

    –Dada

  22. on 13 Sep 2007 at 10:21 am 22. spyder said …

    Oh jeez, heartbreak songs

    At least we’re not all sitting in a gin joint in a hotel, moping in our always too empty glasses; well at least not yet…….