A newly-turned twenty one year old girl was lying on my massage
table, at Harrah’s Casino. I’ve probably seen a million celebratory young women
like her and will see many more. They
all do the same things: walk down the strip with those big plastic souvenir
cups temporarily filled with frozen daiquiris and go to the clubs at night. I
must know this because I like to make small talk with my clients, while they
are trying to relax, throughout their entire massage.
Even though this girl had told me that she was having a
wonderful time celebrating her milestone with her family, when she mentioned her
aspirations to move to California I couldn’t help but give her my two cents. It
was my place, after all, being a complete stranger to give her words of wisdom.
She patiently listened as I told her that I too once had dreams
of moving to the Golden State. I never told her where I was from, probably New
York or New Jersey, but I did tell her how I regrettably settled down here in
Las Vegas. I didn’t give her any specifics as to why I never tried to move out
there but I did tell her about my unplanned pregnancy that stopped me from ever
trying.
I’m miserable here and hopefully I discouraged this young girl
from trying to find happiness and follow her dreams. She should listen to me,
after all, I am a licensed therapist.
But have you strayed into fiction or just into memory?
ReplyDeleteIf straight-up fiction, no no. If memory, then I'll comment.
Memory! I once was a very dissatisfied customer.
ReplyDeleteWhy were you dissatisfied? I'm not always interested in the life story of a complete stranger but I am interested in what pressures or circumstances would lead the stranger to tell me secrets and privacies. But she just pissed you off with her world weariness? With her sense of entitlement?
ReplyDeleteSo, anyway, the irony comes across, but my favorite bit here is the nonironic but visual: "I’ve probably seen a million celebratory young women like her and will see many more. They all do the same things: walk down the strip with those big plastic souvenir cups temporarily filled with frozen daiquiris and go to the clubs at night. "