"So, this is it."
Thursday night, Corb had a Christmas party at his hotel, along with a short shift that started off at five in the morning (the price of being the manager, I suppose). Given the holiday reveling and late shift, he decided to book a room in the hotel for us...ummm, for himself for the night.
Okay, I came along for the ride. It was my first time, checking out his new job location.
The place was built about a year ago, so of course it was beautiful. Each room had a chaise lounge in it, and because these are rooms for travelers staying for possibly weeks or months at a time, each one has a beautiful kitchen with Thermador refrigerators.
I arrived late, so Corb made me up a plate of food from the buffet (they have an on-site staff of cooks who prepare the meals), and he showed me around the place.
We fell asleep early, around ten, right after Scrubs. It had been a long week.
One of the things that Corb felt a bit of anxiety about was introducing me to the people at his work. As a result, it became, basically: "This is Ted." It's really the first time he's ever felt even the slightest bit hesitant about that, but I understand. It's only the first few weeks into his new job, and you never know what the attitudes of some people will be. Sometimes it's better to ease people into things.
For some reason, I woke up at two o'clock. The thought of all the presents that still needed to be bought and the disaster I created with the Capitol One check was weighing heavily on my mind. I got out of bed and walked around a bit, then peed, and I was able to drift back to sleep. The bed was quite comfortable, and I'm picky about those things.
Stop if you've heard this one before, but there was this Jewish guy, a Hispanic, and a gay guy eating lunch together, and...
It may sound like the set up for a punchline, but actually, they're my favorite lunches, nowadays, at work. Every so often, David and I are joined by our friend Millie, who bears a striking resemblance to Condi Rice, except without all that nasty right wing agenda spewed all over her.
Our conversations, as you can imagine, are always animated and typically left-leaning. Between the three of us, we've got the whole Democratric platform covered. Millie handles immigration issues, I handle gay rights, and David takes on economic policy.
Last Friday, we were discussing an old episode of Seinfeld.
Specifically, the episode where Jerry visits his his dentist, and suspects he converted to Judaism so that he can tell Jewish jokes without being politically incorrect.
"Oh, that's so offensive," said David, who claimed never to have seen the episode, even though by now it's probably been rebroadcast at least a gazillion times. "I can't believe Jerry Seinfeld would even intimate that someone who converted to Judaism isn't 'really' a Jew."
"Well, that wasn't exactly the point of the episode..." objected Millie.
"Because let me tell you," continued David. "I converted, and people treat you very differently once they realize you're Jewish. You guys don't know what it's like!"
"Oh, I'm sure we don't," said Millie. "Because people never treat you differently when you're brown."
"And believe me, no one EVER treats you differently when they find out you're gay," I continued, and Millie poked me in the ribs.
"No, seriously," said David. "It's just different."
"I'm sure it must be terrible," said Millie.
"What do you think of Obama moving up in the polls in Ohio?" I asked Millie, looking to change the subject.
"It's okay," she said. "Although I prefer Hillary." She turned to David. "How about you?"
"Same here," said David.
"Me, too," I said. "Besides, her husband already considers himself the first black president."
"Now WHY would he say that?" asked David.
"Oh, you haven't heard that one?" asks Millie. "He's said that for years. That's part of the reason he opened up his office in Harlem. Kind of an inside joke"
"Because the Republicans hated him so much," I said. "Because they wouldn't cut him a break on anything. Because they were terrified to be in the same room as him."
"Because he was addicted to sex," said Millie. "And let me tell you, I would mind kneeling down in front of that desk, myself."
I grinned. "Neither would I," I said, and Millie howled.
"How could you say that?" Corb asked me, during the week-end, as I recounted the story. "You like twinks. Not an old geezer like him."
I grinned, my mind set on the Oval office. "I'd make an exception for Clinton. Any day."
"Oh, come on. He's practically a senior citizen."
"Don't care," I said. "That's one cigar I'd definitely smoke."
Corb shook his head, and didn't talk to me for about five minutes.