Peder
Well-Known Member
Soirée
We had long since driven off any of the highways shown on our map and were now making our way further and further into the back country, away from New Hope, with Adele struggling to read the microscopic printed directions and me peering out into the darkness looking for any landmarks or intersections whatever. The lights of the town were far behind, and the last house miles ago. The ad had only said 'Soirée' in large sans-serif modern all caps, with printed driving directions below. Nothing else. No invitation, no explanation.
Finally, the word 'party' shone out of the darkness, painted by a none-too-steady hand in broad yellow brush strokes on a large decorative flower pot beside a driveway entrance. Adele and I looked at the yellow arrow pointing in, exchanged glances, and figured that we might be there. Finally. As we turned into the driveway, we saw the rectangular bronze nameplate: Neverwhere.
The driveway was flanked by large billowing bushes of pale lavender azalea which provided the backdrop for the occasional drooping pendants of creamy white wisteria blossoms. Dark red bouganvillea also showed its vines here and there.
We reached the head of the U-shaped drive and only then saw the huge white two-story plantation-style building. We pulled up in front and got out, stretching our legs, as valets glided smoothly out of seeming nowhere to take our luggage and move the car away to parking. With no other alternative, we walked up to the front doors and entered.
"Mr and Mrs Travidian?" the bell captain asked, from behind his podium.
"Yes."
"We have been expecting you. Welcome to Neverwhere. You are up the escalator, to the right."
And, sure enough, there were two modern escalators ahead of us at the far corners of the wide open atrium lobby. We walked, took the one on the right, turned right, and walked into a large ballroom with a cocktail party in progress.
Groups of two and three were scattered rather widely about, as if they also were early arrivals who had preceded us. Waiters with trays of cocktails circulated and people chatted and laughed quietly, or stood slightly apart, observing the rest. Clearly it was early and the party hadn't yet moved into high gear. The space would fill.
As I moved through, someone asked me if 'Cana' was spelled with a 'k' or a 'c.'
" 'C' I am pretty sure, but let's check." And I pulled a volume of Encyclopedia Britannica from one of the book shelves -- my set of Britannica, I noticed! My set?! Oh. Yes! Apparently, we had brought the van with some books and decor from home to personalize out stay here. I recognized other shelves of my books spread around the corner of the space.
"Yes, 'C.' Here it is" I said, and I moved on. I spotted Adele across the room, curling up comfortably in a corner of one of the couches, tucking her feet beneath her in a familiar pose, and opening a book.
Books seemed to be the topic of the night.
In the morning I woke up somewhat puzzled, wondering vaguely, since no host had appeared, just how that very pleasant evening had occurred. I got up, shaved and dressed, in no hurry to leave, and wandered out of our room looking for signs of life -- and maybe a place for breakfast on this drowsy Saturday morning.
But no luck. The staff had already come through early and cleaned up any traces of the party the night before. And there were no other guests in sight, either.
But I knew there had been a bell captain, and there had to be a checkout desk. So, I retraced my steps of the night before. Down the escalator into the lobby, and still nobody.
But there in the back corner was the checkout desk. Deserted. So I stood in front of it, expecting someone to arrive. Soon enough, the Desk Clerk glided out of the adjoining back office and asked "Enjoying your stay? How may I help you?"
"Yes, indeed. It has been very pleasant." And then, to the main subject of my curiosity: "I was wondering how much it took to arrange a party like that."
She looked up my account, thought for a minute for a mental calculation and then said "That was about $3,000." and added "You are welcome to stay and continue to enjoy yourself. You are booked for the two nights." Ulp! I gulped inwardly at the realization: so that was my party. Quelle surprise!
I thanked her and decided to get some fresh air, go for a walk, roam the neighborhood, and see what it looked like. Maybe find a place for breakfast.
So, I walked across the atrium again, out the front door (no bell captain this time) turned right and walked down the exit half of the horseshoe driveway. Reached the street, turned right and walked until I found the next intersection, turned right again. (Can't get lost just turning right, can you?) This was truly the back country. Just dense undergrowth and forest crowding either side of the roadway. No sign of another person yet this morning, or any sign that there were even any people around.
Saturday mornings where I came from are not this drowsy. Generally quite the opposite. It's a day for getting things done.
I got to the next intersection, a main drag. Straight as an arrow both directions. Turned right again and walked a bit, along a solid wood fence probably marking the back of the hotel property, I guessed. Vertical rough-sawn planking it was, once painted white, but now streaked with shades of off-white and slate-grey after years of weathering. Picturesque.
A lone car passed by, just puttering along in no hurry, going in my direction. I watched it disappear into the distance, its red stop lights occasionally blinking at very long intervals as it encountered cross streets. It was clear the next intersection was a very long way in front of me so I turned back for the shorter way home.
At the intersection there was a gate in the fence I hadn't noticed before. I though it might be a shortcut through the backyard of the hotel property, so I tried it and it opened.
But no luck. It was merely a potting shed with no exit into the property. (Strange! Potting shed for whom? But that's the way it was -- a dead end).
So I turned left and continued back to the first intersection where I had turned on the way out. Turned left again, expecting a short walk to the front drive of the hotel. But no.
No front drive. No hotel. It was gone. All gone!
I woke up at 7:00 am sharp in my own bed after my first wonderful night's sleep in a long time. I stretched, and there was Adele, still sleeping.
crp
3-20-18
We had long since driven off any of the highways shown on our map and were now making our way further and further into the back country, away from New Hope, with Adele struggling to read the microscopic printed directions and me peering out into the darkness looking for any landmarks or intersections whatever. The lights of the town were far behind, and the last house miles ago. The ad had only said 'Soirée' in large sans-serif modern all caps, with printed driving directions below. Nothing else. No invitation, no explanation.
Finally, the word 'party' shone out of the darkness, painted by a none-too-steady hand in broad yellow brush strokes on a large decorative flower pot beside a driveway entrance. Adele and I looked at the yellow arrow pointing in, exchanged glances, and figured that we might be there. Finally. As we turned into the driveway, we saw the rectangular bronze nameplate: Neverwhere.
The driveway was flanked by large billowing bushes of pale lavender azalea which provided the backdrop for the occasional drooping pendants of creamy white wisteria blossoms. Dark red bouganvillea also showed its vines here and there.
We reached the head of the U-shaped drive and only then saw the huge white two-story plantation-style building. We pulled up in front and got out, stretching our legs, as valets glided smoothly out of seeming nowhere to take our luggage and move the car away to parking. With no other alternative, we walked up to the front doors and entered.
"Mr and Mrs Travidian?" the bell captain asked, from behind his podium.
"Yes."
"We have been expecting you. Welcome to Neverwhere. You are up the escalator, to the right."
And, sure enough, there were two modern escalators ahead of us at the far corners of the wide open atrium lobby. We walked, took the one on the right, turned right, and walked into a large ballroom with a cocktail party in progress.
Groups of two and three were scattered rather widely about, as if they also were early arrivals who had preceded us. Waiters with trays of cocktails circulated and people chatted and laughed quietly, or stood slightly apart, observing the rest. Clearly it was early and the party hadn't yet moved into high gear. The space would fill.
As I moved through, someone asked me if 'Cana' was spelled with a 'k' or a 'c.'
" 'C' I am pretty sure, but let's check." And I pulled a volume of Encyclopedia Britannica from one of the book shelves -- my set of Britannica, I noticed! My set?! Oh. Yes! Apparently, we had brought the van with some books and decor from home to personalize out stay here. I recognized other shelves of my books spread around the corner of the space.
"Yes, 'C.' Here it is" I said, and I moved on. I spotted Adele across the room, curling up comfortably in a corner of one of the couches, tucking her feet beneath her in a familiar pose, and opening a book.
Books seemed to be the topic of the night.
In the morning I woke up somewhat puzzled, wondering vaguely, since no host had appeared, just how that very pleasant evening had occurred. I got up, shaved and dressed, in no hurry to leave, and wandered out of our room looking for signs of life -- and maybe a place for breakfast on this drowsy Saturday morning.
But no luck. The staff had already come through early and cleaned up any traces of the party the night before. And there were no other guests in sight, either.
But I knew there had been a bell captain, and there had to be a checkout desk. So, I retraced my steps of the night before. Down the escalator into the lobby, and still nobody.
But there in the back corner was the checkout desk. Deserted. So I stood in front of it, expecting someone to arrive. Soon enough, the Desk Clerk glided out of the adjoining back office and asked "Enjoying your stay? How may I help you?"
"Yes, indeed. It has been very pleasant." And then, to the main subject of my curiosity: "I was wondering how much it took to arrange a party like that."
She looked up my account, thought for a minute for a mental calculation and then said "That was about $3,000." and added "You are welcome to stay and continue to enjoy yourself. You are booked for the two nights." Ulp! I gulped inwardly at the realization: so that was my party. Quelle surprise!
I thanked her and decided to get some fresh air, go for a walk, roam the neighborhood, and see what it looked like. Maybe find a place for breakfast.
So, I walked across the atrium again, out the front door (no bell captain this time) turned right and walked down the exit half of the horseshoe driveway. Reached the street, turned right and walked until I found the next intersection, turned right again. (Can't get lost just turning right, can you?) This was truly the back country. Just dense undergrowth and forest crowding either side of the roadway. No sign of another person yet this morning, or any sign that there were even any people around.
Saturday mornings where I came from are not this drowsy. Generally quite the opposite. It's a day for getting things done.
I got to the next intersection, a main drag. Straight as an arrow both directions. Turned right again and walked a bit, along a solid wood fence probably marking the back of the hotel property, I guessed. Vertical rough-sawn planking it was, once painted white, but now streaked with shades of off-white and slate-grey after years of weathering. Picturesque.
A lone car passed by, just puttering along in no hurry, going in my direction. I watched it disappear into the distance, its red stop lights occasionally blinking at very long intervals as it encountered cross streets. It was clear the next intersection was a very long way in front of me so I turned back for the shorter way home.
At the intersection there was a gate in the fence I hadn't noticed before. I though it might be a shortcut through the backyard of the hotel property, so I tried it and it opened.
But no luck. It was merely a potting shed with no exit into the property. (Strange! Potting shed for whom? But that's the way it was -- a dead end).
So I turned left and continued back to the first intersection where I had turned on the way out. Turned left again, expecting a short walk to the front drive of the hotel. But no.
No front drive. No hotel. It was gone. All gone!
I woke up at 7:00 am sharp in my own bed after my first wonderful night's sleep in a long time. I stretched, and there was Adele, still sleeping.
crp
3-20-18