Chronic Negress

The Negress experienced quite a panoply of human experience while being at the Newark Airport for 6 hours or so waiting on an extremely delayed flight to San Francisco. I hid out in the President’s Club since drinking is an excellent way to kill time when you are waiting. I had one quartino of Cadus Malbec (vintage not stated) with an English guy who was a huge Tottenham Spurs fan, taught figure skating and was a delighted to meet a Yank with extensive knowledge of soccer. His plane left. I was then joined by three Disney employees who were enchanted and on their way to Orlando. I drank my second quartino of Cadus, gave them some of my Xanax (wouldn’t you?) and made wine recommendations for the California Grill in  Mouse land. Their plane left. Between these encounters I had been chatting with a lightly pierced woman from Newfoundland whose flight had been canceled. She was in the midst of flying back from a month in India. As her drinking escalated (I stopped counting the White Russians at about 14), I found out about how her alcoholic boyfriend lured her back from India a month early saying he couldn’t function without her (I see more than one alcoholic in this picture but I leave you to judge that for yourself). She cut short trip with the usual domestic flight mayhem once experiences in the developing world. However, before her laptop and phone got stolen (which may have been before or after she made out and got drunk with some English guy who not surprisingly went flaccid on her), she found out via Facebook that Alkie boyfriend had been seen in the hangout bar in Newfoundland fondling someone else. Her response? Buy cheap clothes, including a pair of high heel sneakers in Lakers colors and an odd piece of lingerie best described as a combination thong/bustier/onesie. She planned to wear some of the cheap clothes to the hangout to kick Alkie boyfriend in the balls. I know about the odd lingerie because she pulled it out a bag in the President’s Club and showed it to me, along with the tattered, smelly shoes she had worn all through India. Around this time she said, “I’m not drunk. Am I acting drunk?” I could not answer the question. Luckily I left to lounge to board my flight, leaving at 10 p.m. instead of 6 p.m. Arrived at SFO at 2 a.m., picked up rental car and made my way to the Palace hotel, which is gorgeous especially at four a.m. or so. After much needed sleep, I went out Friday night with my dear friend Phillip and had a stunning Viognier and the 5 Puttonyos Tokaji at a groovy seafood place, Anchor and Hope. More Bayside adventures await.