Once upon a time, my dream trip was to visit New York City, stay at The Algonquin Hotel, attend a few Broadway shows, go to museums, enjoy the night life at a jazz club or two, do some shopping, and visit other sites that tourists like to see.
Sadly, those days are gone and it’s no longer safe to go to NYC.
So, I’ve resurrected a little story I wrote a few years back about a woman who takes her first trip to the Big Apple. ~CE
This was her first time for many things on that tenth day in May. It was her first trip to the Big Apple; her first Broadway play on the Great White Way; and her first Dirty martini, ever. Making the decision to turn off the lights, leave a key with her neighbor, and record a message on her answering machine that would tell callers she was off to fulfill her dreams meant taking a huge leap of faith.
She sat at the hotel bar rather than at a table. She might need someone to talk to and the barkeeper was perfect for the occasion.
Her dress was deep red. It was the kind of dress that fit her body; the kind of dress that stopped just below her knees; and the kind of dress that zipped up the back just as easily as it unzipped and fell to the floor. The neckline was perfect for her pearl necklace … a gift from someone she knew once upon a time.
As she crossed her legs, one could tell she was wearing seamed stockings – black – to match her peep toe evening heels. She wore her hair long and wavy simply because she liked it that way, and she rarely paid attention to those who said women of age should wear their hair much shorter. She was light-handed with her make-up, but one had to wonder how she ever found the perfect shade of red lipstick. She rather enjoyed creating her own style, and she embraced her sensuality.
Sitting at the bar, she chatted up the barkeeper about the hotel and its history … the famous writers who had met there once a week to discuss everything under the moon and the stars. She felt cheated, as if she had been born too late.
The barkeeper said he understood. Maybe he did or maybe he was agreeing with her in hopes of getting a better tip. He would find out later that she was very generous with her tips. She was not like some who would mentally figure out twenty percent of the bill and really leave fifteen. That was not her style, and she loved to reward good service.
A gentleman sat at the bar, three stools down from where she was sitting. He appeared to be old world or maybe he was from old money. It was difficult to tell, but not that it really mattered. He ordered a Scotch whisky neat, but then he changed his mind. Eyeing the martini glass, he said to the barkeeper:
“I will have what the lady is drinking, and perhaps she will join me for one more.”
She looked at the stranger sitting three stools down, lowered her eyes just a little, smiled softly at him, and in a voice he would find hard to forget, she accepted his kind offer.
The audio of this rant is going around on Twitter (X). Below is the text from Current Revolt and a link to the audio on their website. As far as I’m concerned Sheila Jackson Lee should be sued by the staffer. Then, she should be removed from all House committees. NO ONE DESERVES TO BE TALKED TO THIS WAY. NO ONE.
From Current Revolt …
Audio we received today appears to be of Congresswoman Shelia Jackson Lee berating her staff.
Sheila Jackson Lee • 0:01 – 0:09
Uh, you took a piece of paper from that woman, uh, regarding, uh, something that was owned by Ducantell. Where is it? What, what date was it?
Staffer • 0:09 – 0:16
Oh, from Jerome took it upstairs. I’ll have to call to pick it up when I switched out the papers. I’ll call him.
Sheila Jackson Lee • 0:17 – 1:02
I don’t want you to do a goddamn thing. I want you to have a fucking brain. I want you to have read it. I want you to say, Congresswoman, with such and such date. That’s what I want. That’s the kind of staff that I want to have. So some stupid other motherfucker did it. And, and I don’t have the information. Nobody sent me the information. I need to, uh, ensure my, um, schedule and, uh, you know, if, if Boo Boo did it, shit ass did it, fuck face did it. And nobody knows a goddamn thing in my office. Okay? Nothing. I gave it to you. Your job was to get it on the calendar, imprint it in your brain, or send me the information back saying, “Congresswoman, I made sure that the Ovide Ducantell event that you gave me, uh, for a so-and-so date at seven is on the fucking calendar.” Not to, oh, Jerome has it.
Sheila Jackson Lee • 1:02 – 1:33
Okay. So when I called Jerome, he only sitting up there like a fat ass stupid idiot talking about, uh, what the fuck? He doesn’t know. Okay? Both of y’all are fuck ups [inaudible]. It’s the worst shit that I could have ever had put together. Two goddamn big ass children fucking idiots serve no goddamn purpose. Ain’t managing nobody. Nobody’s respecting them. Nobody gives a shit about what you’re doing and you ain’t doing shit. And this is an example of it. I gave it to Jerome. This is not child’s work.
