Most Hiltons don’t have bars or restaurants in them. Well, not the ones I stay in that run about 150 dollars a night. And the ones that do aren’t worth writing home about. Fifteen dollar microwaved mozzarella sticks, eight dollar domestic draft beers. Highway fucking robbery. And the gall to do this, considering the hotel is three hundred feet from a Texas Roadhouse. The bartender disappears for a while, only for you to realize it’s actually the front desk lady. Wearing multiple hats, none of them looking good. Exasperated, she gets improperly makes your room key and your cocktail.
The malaise known as aimlessness draws the spirit into a thin straw and allows it to simply drip out until the last moment of life. I too find it disquieting, that image of old men at the bar. And so you have to strive to never be that man, no matter the cost.
The malaise known as aimlessness draws the spirit into a thin straw and allows it to simply drip out until the last moment of life. I too find it disquieting, that image of old men at the bar. And so you have to strive to never be that man, no matter the cost.