Chapter 19

           Incaseyoudon’tliveinNewYork,theWickerBarisinthissortofswankyhotel,theSetonHotel.Iusedtogotherequitealot,butIdon’tanymore.Igraduallycutitout.It’soneofthoseplacesthataresupposedtobeverysophisticatedandall,andthephoniesarecominginthewindow.TheyusedtohavethesetwoFrenchbabes,TinaandJanine,comeoutandplaythepianoandsingaboutthreetimeseverynight.Oneofthemplayedthepiano—strictlylousy—andtheotheronesang,andmostofthesongswereeitherprettydirtyorinFrench.Theonethatsang,oldJanine,wasalwayswhisperingintothegoddammicrophonebeforeshesang.She’dsay,"AndnowweliketogeeveyouourimpressionofVoolyVooFransay.EeteesthestoryofaleetleFranshgirlwhocomestoabeegceety,justlikeNewYork,andfallseenloveweesaleetleboyfromBrookleen.Wehopeyoulikeeet."Then,whenshewasalldonewhisperingandbeingcuteashell,she’dsingsomedopeysong,halfinEnglishandhalfinFrench,anddriveallthephoniesintheplacemadwithjoy.Ifyousataroundtherelongenoughandheardallthephoniesapplaudingandall,yougottohateeverybodyintheworld,Iswearyoudid.Thebartenderwasalouse,too.Hewasabigsnob.Hedidn’ttalktoyouatallhardlyunlessyouwereabigshotoracelebrityorsomething.Ifyouwereabigshotoracelebrityorsomething,thenhewasevenmorenauseating.He’dgouptoyouandsay,withthisbigcharmingsmile,likehewasahelluvaswellguyifyouknewhim,"Well!How’sConnecticut?"or"How’sFlorida?"Itwasaterribleplace,I’mnotkidding.Icutoutgoingthereentirely,gradually.

           ItwasprettyearlywhenIgotthere.Isatdownatthebar—itwasprettycrowded—andhadacoupleofScotchandsodasbeforeoldLuceevenshowedup.