13. Three Episodes

Every so often, there is a slow shift. My new thing is to ask whomever I am standing around with to "tell me a story." Everyone at Zemblanity is brimming with stories. Thus, we'll take a break with these three little episodes.

1. One time, the sidewalk was overrun by patrons waiting to get inside. One woman in particular was being troublesome and so, the general manager Tanya went outside to deal with this cranky lady. As Gabriel put it, "She got kinda nasty with this lady," which is not too difficult to imagine. Well, this woman came inside to lodge a complaint and asked for the manager. She was directed to Gabriel who then listened to this woman expound upon the great indignities to which she had been subjected. The staff was all listening on. So Gabriel said, "You know what? I'm going sit her down and reprimand her. Don't you worry Miss, I'm going to have a talk with this individual." Of course, it almost impossible to imagine Gabriel scolding the general manager, his boss. All the employees got a kick out of trying to imagine it though.

2. Phil, Zemblanity's best waiter (in my opinion), tells me this story: "So there must have been three or four feet of snow outside the door and this stretch hummer limo pulls up outside and Bruce Willis gets out. The restaurant's almost empty and he goes upstairs to eat with his daughters. Now, at the time he was dating... oh, I'm blanking here... the mousy one, you know, the shop-lifter." Winona Ryder. "So anyhow, as they're all leaving, she's holding up the show, browsing around at all the trinkets. He turns to her and says 'Alright now honey, no shoplifting.' And she turns to him and gives him this... look." At this point Phil busts up, remembering her icy glare of reproach. You know what, Bruce Willis seems pretty cool.

3. Although Miss Annette's name is not really 'Miss Annette,' it seems that I was almost clairvoyant when I picked that moniker. You see, when she started working at Zemblanity some 40 years or more ago, she used the fake name Netta. There was some reason that she changed it having to do with her modeling career. Anyhow, Netta worked the days either at photo shoots or doing runway or working at the Max Factor counter at Bloomingdale's. Then at night, upon Mr. Charles' request, she would stop in and work as a model. Zemblanity had a lot of models in those days, back when Mr. Charles was an aspiring clothing designer. Netta would strut the length of the restaurant, wearing one of his dresses. Customers would just buy these dresses right off of Miss Annette's back for hundreds and hundreds of dollars. Anyhow, after the epic work day, she would go out and party and then often wind up crashing at Mr. Charles' fifth story walk up which was about a block or two away from Zemblanity. In those days, in the mornings, Mr. Charles would call down to the restaurant and ask one of the waiters to bring over a pot of coffee. What a life!

And now, a poem.

Annette

All that remains

of her glamour

hunches in a grizzled husk

amongst the gravelly remains

of a hundred thousand cigarette butts,

ground out, as forgotten as days.

Ah, but once, her body

had been a silk ribbon

of silver smoke, bending

as lithely as a blue note

in the ashen streets of dawn.

Her lovers

bent over backwards

at the slightest gesture

of her flawless wrist,

the angle of her neck,

her hip cocked

with the corner of her lip.

Her laughter had been

a perfect bell.

Now she coughs wrinkled growls

and cracks mirrors

in the burned out apartment

of this old woman's body.

Everything hurts.

But most of all-

this parade of women, young

and brimming with sex, heart-

-breaking in their short skirts

and long lashes.

"Laugh now Princess,

you won't be beautiful forever."