This week: out of context with That Demon Life....
All the bartenders at the Little Wagon were women, and they kept the ladies’ bathroom very clean—at least in comparison with the men’s room, which was covered with foul graffiti and had an ancient toilet that seeped beery urine onto the floor. The ladies’ room had a sink with running water, a clean toilet, a mirror, plastic plants, and a photo of the Austrian Alps. Linda stood in front of the photo, trying to imagine what it would be like to be in the goddamn Alps—clean air, white wine, waking in the afternoons to maybe try a little of the German she sort of half-remembered from college.
“Is someone in there?” The door rattled.
“I’m busy!” Linda snapped. Thank God she’d remembered to lock the door.
There wouldn’t be anyone to yell at her in the Alps—she’d be a foreigner, people would think she was creepy and strange, they’d leave her alone. She could stay in her room all day and watch TV—maybe they had COPS in Austria, or Law & Order. COPS dubbed into German would be pretty funny.
Linda sighed. Really, it was a lot of trouble to cross a goddamn ocean just to be left alone. It was a shame people couldn’t leave her alone here.
There was a bang at the door. “Hey! Is anybody in there?”
Linda looked at the photo of the Alps and shook her head.
“Is someone in there?” The door rattled.
“I’m busy!” Linda snapped. Thank God she’d remembered to lock the door.
There wouldn’t be anyone to yell at her in the Alps—she’d be a foreigner, people would think she was creepy and strange, they’d leave her alone. She could stay in her room all day and watch TV—maybe they had COPS in Austria, or Law & Order. COPS dubbed into German would be pretty funny.
Linda sighed. Really, it was a lot of trouble to cross a goddamn ocean just to be left alone. It was a shame people couldn’t leave her alone here.
There was a bang at the door. “Hey! Is anybody in there?”
Linda looked at the photo of the Alps and shook her head.
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