I just spent much of last night and part of this morning writing a most incredible post. It was the longest I've ever written for this blog, and perhaps the most intriguing. It began with suffering at the hands of the American crowd and ended up at the hotel bar. There were dark, intriguing characters, plot twists, diversions, sex, drugs, liquor, and money. In the end, there was mystery. I wrote it hard and with vigor last night after it happened, a bit too drunk to finish, so I got up and worked on the rest of it this morning. Sober. And it is a good thing, for when it was done, I realized I could not publish it here. I have used the real name of the hotel and of the bars and restaurants. I could not chance that it would come back to haunt the very real people who work in those places, or worse, come back to haunt me. So with great remorse, I have deleted it all. Perhaps I can use it sometime later after this trip is a mere forgotten memory. I will have to change the city, the hotel, the restaurants. Then I can tell it. But if you ever stay in D.C., I recommend The Madison. And if you are here, you must go to the hotel bar and see the young boy and girl who tend it. He is suave and she is beautiful. And if I am correct, they will remember me well. Give my best to him, and to her. . . well, tell her I said. . . "If only. . . ." And if I am right, they will regale you with the story as it appeared to them. And you will be tipsy before it is through.
I fly home tonight, back to the old horrors.
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