I’m in coastal NJ for ‘vacation’ in a hotel that can only be described as ‘bohemian’. The bartender didn’t have faintest idea how to make a proper French Martini, so I opted for ordinary dirty ones. I was in the lobby all night due to the torrential rains, with my family and also my sister — a rare occasion.
Since we were stormed in, food was ordered into the lobby, a place beset upon by at least 30 people, drinking and playing board games and billiards — an odd pastiche of people ranging from orthodox jew to NJ shore moron. My dog was present, barking at anyone who made odd movements, which I encouraged, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Fly.
I tried my hand at billiards tonight, something I hadn’t done in at least a decade. I approach the table with supreme confidence, having played this game every weekend during most of my teenage years. At first I was impressive, hitting balls at a fast pace with extreme precision, reminiscent of a pool shark you might’ve seen on the teevee or even in person. It wasn’t long before that shine wore off, exposing my amateurish skillset. I imagine this is how many of you feel trading on a daily basis. For that, I am deeply sympathetic.
God damn it, I wasn’t any good. As a matter of fact, it was a disgraceful display of adult athleticism. I looked like a god damned blogger out there, hitting and missing — knocking balls off the fucking table in front of an audience of cynical fucked faces.
All in all, this place should be condemned. No human should have to live in quarters as lowly and valueless as this. Nevertheless, I press on, enduring this personal shame and indignity for the benefit of my family. Some might say this makes me a ‘great man.’ To those people, I say thank you and strongly suggest avoiding hotels with pool tables in the front lobby.
I have a long morning ahead of me tomorrow and I am busy reading old newspapers, so I’ll see you when I see you.Comments »