Karaoke Bathroom, Part 2 (5/11/2005)

So, I beat the guy next to me to the sink, wash up, dry off with my pocket hanky while making my way back down the hall to the room, and look into the window framed on the door to make sure this is, in fact, OUR room. I grab the handle, kick the door open and burst through all in one motion and the music leaks out into the hallway--she had already made up her mind: it takes me a second, but I'm picking up the intro to...to...In Da Club??

IN DA CLUB!!

And she's sitting in the sofa, hunched over her tiny figure and looking up at me with her arm stretched out over the table--microphone in hand and pointed at me. Her eyes, decorated with freckles, and the playfulness of her smile seem to suggest, "take the mic, ya big dummy." She'd been waiting for me, and this was my big entrance.

I shot her a quick smile back, and snatched the service phone off the wall, my eyes following the color that was now washing over the lyrics for In Da Club on the monitor.

"Clerk's desk," a voice greeted. My smile began to fade.

"Yes, we'll be down to settle up shortly."

"Okay, thank--."

I hung up.

I hit "CANCEL TRACK" on the remote, traded the microphone in her outstretched hand with a frantic, tight smile, and two-hand JAMMED them into the basket--whisking both the basket and the girl off to the clerk's desk.

I paid.

And I kept silent until I saw her cab pull away where I just shook my head in disgust and sighed, "In Da Club." I was talking to myself again.