In keeping with my vow to do new things in my life as I enter my retirement years, let me mention what I have accomplished so far in my first week:
I have taken daily early morning walks like all old people are supposed to do.
I have gotten my first tattoo and am planning my second - while thinking about my third.
I am waiting for the opportunity to get away from Bobby long enough to have my left ear pierced so I can begin sporting a big ring there.
So far so good.
Today, I attended my first orgy.
Now, a planned orgy is a curious thing. The host insists upon discretion, so although he sends the word out a full month in advance, he never reveals the site of the "party." You must discreetly RSVP via email, preferably from your anonymous account, not your real one that anybody in the house can access.
The host will then reveal the location of the party late the night before the event, again via email. This information only lets you know the hotel where said orgy is to occur, not the room number. To get that, you must call a secret cell phone 15 minutes before the start of the party and wait for the voice mail to kick in, at which point a distant voice will repeat a secret code, a series of numbers, several times in several different ways (five-
forty, five-four-
oh, five-
four-oh,
five-forty) until, in your density, you realize it is simply the room number within the selected hotel.
That last email from the night before has already given you instructions on how to approach the room. For instance, you must "walk straight
to the room. If you walk
by the room, look at the door, keep going,
then turn around and do it again, that is not discreet; and you draw attention to the door." You don't want to do that.
Once you
have done that (approached the door, that is -
discreetly), you must "knock lightly. If you bang or knock hard, others might open
their doors, and you will have drawn attention to the room."
These are the no-nos. They may be the most fun part of the whole deal.
Once you knock, the host swings open the door, grabs you by the back of the head, and sweeps you into the room like a cop settling a perp into the back seat of his cruiser.
Now, you've come early, nervously thinking you will be the first to arrive, only to find a roomful of people already waiting. You then begin to wait with them for at least another 30 minutes as more people knock lightly on the door and are yanked in.
The host, of course, is charming and keeps up a lighthearted running banter. Today, he has nothing but praise for this hotel's housekeeping staff. They are wonderful, and we should not worry that they might be entering the room as we perpetrate the unspeakable abomination we have come here to enjoy, since he has already told them he is merely hosting a business meeting here from noon until two. Apparently, the staff is Central American, so they raise no questions or eyebrows about the gringo holding a business meeting at lunchtime in a private hotel room.
During this interval, you begin to notice the other people already here. Across from you, lounging on one of the beds is a guy who looks like what Kevin Costner might look like if Kevin Costner looked like any dude in real life. On an opposite corner of this same bed is a portly, white-haired gentleman sitting resignedly with his hands folded in his lap. Coming into the room shortly after you have entered is a rather large fellow. Really big. You begin to relax as you realize that, although you may not be the most attractive person in the room, neither are you the oldest nor the fattest.
Across the room are the kids, one in his thirties, the other a twenty-something.
The first of these youngsters is quite attractive, the kind of person who will never have to lift a finger for anything he wants in this life - until he reaches his forties, goes to pot, and ends his days passed out under the Governor Nicholls Street Wharf, from whose rocks he will, late one night, roll over in his oblivion into the cold, slimy waters of the Mississippi River, and silently drown.
The twenty-something is a shaggy-haired doofus with a little belly and baby fat who will soon reveal the biggest package in the room once he drops trou - the kind of package designed to humiliate every other male in the vicinity and make him mutter, "Oh, God" - you know what I mean?
Unfortunately for everyone else in the room, he will be set upon by the stringbean with the long neck and knobby elbows, gnarly hips, and bony legs who will lock lips on the kid like a Tennessee hound dog on that stray chicken that happened to hop the fence.
Stringbean's mother never taught him to share. I know it's impolite to belittle someone's mom, but there it is.
The rather large gentleman will be the first to strip. That certainly lowers the tension in the room. Suddenly, there is a feeling of camaraderie replacing the earlier one of competition. The orgy has begun.
And it ensues.
Eventually, you begin to think,
I wish I'd had a few drinks on the way here. Then a little later, you start thinking,
I wish I were out drinking now. You begin to notice the host checking the messages on his cell phone. You notice the interesting-looking bear taking it easy in one of the easy chairs in the room. You decide to take it easy in the other one. Once the bear has decided to start getting dressed, you figure it's been long enough and you can politely leave the party, too. After all, you were raised never to be the one to make the first exit from the ball.
It is at this moment you realize there have been no instructions telling you how you were supposed to
leave the party. So you ask the host, who replies, serenely, "Just open the door."
With a confident mien, you do just that - at the same time as the attractive youngster (the one who will never have to lift a finger but drowns in the river) suddenly steps out of the adjacent bathroom, sees the open door, and scurries back in, too scared to risk being seen, naked and engorged. (
What was he doing in the bathroom? I wonder.)
Smiling the smile of the righteous now, you step out into the hallway, find the elevator, take it down to the first floor, leave the hotel, and walk to your car.
Voila! You have accomplished another milestone in your quest for the perfect second childhood, your first orgy.
(
