The San Francisco Marriott

gross-old-man

Oh! And OH!

Never had I felt such an uncontrolled rush of indulgence! I gazed over the sea of bald patches, comb-overs and creeping hairlines and my heart thumped a hidden warmth! It was as if each one had been varnished with a coat of Ronseal High Gloss lacquer. I could imagine licking each one and sucking the dying follicles of the surrounding hairs. I wanted to dress each polished globe with a hat or even hats, teasing myself with each tilt, eventually grabbing them by the ears and running my sweaty fingers all over the surface – at once massaging a little too roughly and gently caressing the aggravated skin.

OH!

Who would have thought that the International Accountancy conference would offer so much? I imagined myself as one of the admin staff, handing out name badges and information pamphlets featuring the timeline of coma-inducing talks and discussion groups over the weekend.

“Hello and welcome to the International Accountancy Conference 2007. Here is your name badge. And this is a list of the events which will be taking place over the next few days.”

“Thank you, that’s great. Can you tell me where the resident bar is?”

Was that a wink? He just might have winked at me. I’m nearly positive he did. Did he want me to pull off my name badge and abandon the others and accompany him to the bar? One cocktail after the next until neither of us could articulate to the barman what we’d like to drink. We’d crawl to the elevator and out again on the top floor. Open the penthouse suite, throw off our cloth exoskeletons. And I’d ask with equal measures of anger and pure love:

“Have you ever heard of cranial intercourse?”, and he’d smile and drool a little and I’d grab his inebriated face and I’d tell him not to bite too hard.

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