You've been waiting, haven't you? You diminutive imp...thought I wouldn't have the wherewithal to complete my tale of woe, eh? Think again, shorty!
So...my first trip with The Queen (as I named her in Chapter the First) was to San Diego. Yes, we were to share a hotel room. I arrived the day before she did, and spent a productive day working very hard as I am accustomed to doing. On the next day, I returned to my hotel room, realizing I had left my wallet (and needing money for lunch). The door was barred from the inside with one of those "anti-rape" units and there was a "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on the door. I scuttled away, scared. What was she doing in there? I went hungry that afternoon.
Later, she sprang at me from behind a booth in the convention center. "Let's order room service and have girl talk tonight!" she cackled. "We can sit in our nighties and--" I stammered that I had a meeting to attend, and that I had dinner plans already. Glomming onto a group of sales reps, I stayed out much later than necessary and got perilously drunk, just to avoid returning to the room and seeing her waiting in her terry cloth nightgown. In the morning, I opened one eye to see her toodling about the hotel room, already dressed in her trademark red pumps and power suit. Yeekers! A close call. I checked out her bathroom kit while I was cursing my hangover. Her toiletries were aligned in neat rows, arranged by size and shape, atop a washcloth.
Later, she nabbed me to complain of an encounter with someone who had said "Sheesh, you're so...tiny!" Offended, The Queen had many foul things to say about this woman. Did she realize that we were going to put our magazine on the MAP, dammit? That we would generate BUZZ? That readers everywhere would salivate at their mailboxes each month to discover the TRUTH? She may have been small in stature but her dreams were BIG.
The second night in CA comes back to me now...we had dinner together. It could no longer be avoided. At the next table were two young children sharing a meal with their parents. They were well-behaved, except for an occasional merry outburst. The Queen shuddered. "I don't like children," she said conspiratorially. "I don't think they should be allowed in a restaurant at dinner." I tried to make nice, as she was my boss. After dinner, she announced that she was headed back to the room, where we could continue our chat. I opted for more excessive drinking, returning at 2 a.m. to her petite little snores.
The thing was, The Queen liked me. She really liked me! For my coworkers whom she did not like, times were much harder.
To be continued.
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