Being on the tail end of a hurricane turns out to be a real tonic for ol’ UD, who must share this odd trait with others, because she’s far from alone beside the raging ocean. The restaurants – on a dreary sodden Monday night – were packed; we had to wait at the bar for a table, but that was fine cuz the bartender wanted to know the details of the Rapoport/Ocean City legal case, so actually we had to tear ourselves away from him.
Obviously there’s a drama to it all – the shimmying trees, the wind/waves roar, the watery watery world – and everyone’s pleasantly stirred. The inner/outer contrast is a thing too – our zennish hotel has hearths aplenty, and perfumes from their spa drift along the air; and in case you need more tranquillizing, they’ve just this year inserted a glowing bar into the glowing lobby.
My drink, however, is black, fruit-flavored, tea; and I stare at a fireplace and watch my tea’s smoke curl up while I listen to an audiobook version of AVENTURES D’ALICE AU PAYS DES MERVEILLES (one must continue to set oneself challenges, even into one’s dotage) through my earbuds.