—The Elevator—
No alcohol was involved in this story.
We’re on the 20th Floor at the Hilton in New Orleans.
Last night, I got in around 11 p.m. — I think.
This morning, I get up to get myself a Diet Coke out of the mini fridge.
That’s when I learned that I’m out of Cokes here.
I throw on some clothes to go down to the store in the lobby and grab a few Cokes.
I get in the elevator. Another guy around my age is already in the elevator. He stares at me.
“It’s a Black Eye,” I tell him. “That’s what I’m telling myself.”
“Who hit you, RuPaul?”
I laugh.
“You should see the other guy,” I reply.
“You sure it was a guy,” he says, and we both begin laughing.
“Well, it’s my first time in New Orleans, and I might not ever get another chance. Plus, there was this woman who talked me into it.”
“Oh, say no more. Completely understand. Women… We’ll do anything for a woman…”
The elevator door opens, and we walk out.
“Good luck with that woman,” he says to me.
“Thank you,” I reply.
P.S. It’ll come off in the shower.
We leave today, and I’ll write my stories as my Brother drives us back home.
