John and David are guided like rock stars through the Hard Rock Cafe. Past a bouncer and velvet rope that leads up open stairs. they see an open-to-the-first-floor area reserved for private parties. John thinks, appropriately, the area looks down on the dining room where he and his family would be eating as tourists. Their guide announces them.
Hard Rock Guide
'The Creative Team is in the house.'
John sees so many pretty people turn and applaude at them. Many of the women are wearing shiny silk blouses in golds, reds and greens and tight black pants. The men, many of whom look like male models in that flattering light, have really white teeth John thinks. To John, the Group seemed to say in their eyes...'there's the glamour'...like they are all searching for it...at least tonight they are. John thinks...the odd think about glamour...is if you look for glamour...you are always looking for glamour. And what people create in any glamourous profession is just that: created. It's never real. You're not there in that glamorous place...'
David shoves a drink into each of John's hands. He makes a motion with his fingers like he's hypnotizing him.
John.
'You will drink one right away. You are having deep thoughts and I won't have it.'
John drinks one drink.
David
'Don't worry, if you get so drunk you fall off the balcony onto the tourists...how cool would your death be as you land on a table with plates of fried potatoe skins. An Irish American, covered in cheesy potatoes...dead before his time. I could cry.'
John finishes his second drink.
'I could cry. Your story sucks....and not in a good way.'
David hands him another drink.
John sips third drink in half an hour.
'You know...I'm starting to feel like we are in some glamorous job. Rock stars.'
David looks John in the eyes.
'Yup. You're drunk. Getting there.'
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