Tuesday, Sept. 24, 2002
Dear Diary:

It was just about a year ago today that we opened the door to our hotel room in Perth, Western Australia, just over 36 hours after we had closed the door to our little log home here in Quebec.

We were both half-crazed with jet lag and sleep deprivation and after a luxurious hot shower we collapsed into our comfy bed. Then, at 4 a.m., my eyes popped open and my body shouted, "Time to get up!"

The spousal unit's slacker body continued to snore at the sort of decibels normally associated with heavy construction equipment. I knew there was zero chance that I was getting back to sleep so I pulled on some clothes and headed downstairs to the lobby to use the guest's computer. I figured that since I was up, I could fire off a few e-mails.

The desk clerk was a very friendly man about ten years younger than I am. "Ah, so you've come downstairs to see me?" he joked. "Well, shyeah," I joked back and then sat down at the keyboard. I buried myself in my e-mail.

He seemed in a mood to talk and so as I typed away to friends and family, I listened to bits and pieces of his life story. It turned out he'd been in the Australian army and spent some time training in Cold Lake, Alberta. I commiserated over what a shock an Alberta winter must have been for an Aussie.

He noticed the green bracelet tattooed on my wrist and mentioned that he, too, has a tattoo. It was on his buttal region. He asked me if I wanted to see it.

There was a pause as my even more impaired than normal brain processed what had been said.

JEEBUS H. RICE THIS GUY THINKS I HAVE COME DOWNSTAIRS LOOKING FOR SEX WITH A STRANGER AND HE WANTS TO BE THAT STRANGER!

Oh man.

Stuff like this just never happens to me. I Am The Last Woman On The Planet Anyone Would Ever Hit On.

My first reaction was, "Where the hell were you when I was in high school and I thought I would end up That Weird Woman With 58 Cats?" (Which, of course, is completely different from the weird woman with two cats I HAVE become.)

Then I realized at the time I was in high school in Canada, he was probably in kindergarten in Australia.

I think we can all agree that took him off the hook for ignoring me during my high school years.

So that left the immediate problem, how do I get out of this and leave us both with our dignity intact?

Fortunately I didn't have to say a thing. I'm guessing my face said it all. There was another little pause and then he segued into another interesting little story. He had many interesting stories. I'll bet he's had many interesting experiences.

And now, this morning, I find myself wondering how many women HAVE come down those stairs half a world away looking for a stranger, and turned to this man?

Ah, the stories we'll never know, eh?

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.