General Sue: a troubled love


It's not often that you meet some-one who you have nothing in common with, nothing to connect you both and certainly nothing that you can talk about. However, when I was trapped in a lift in "The Houston Hotel" I was with a young woman who was the opposite of me that it scared me.

They say opposites attract, but I could tell as soon as I pulled the metal grilled door across and pushed my thumb into the 4th floor button that I repulsed her. Perhaps it was my accent (I had been muttering to myself). Perhaps it was my deodorant (I had been dancing like a loon at my cousins wedding). Perhaps it was my inability to stand still (I must have scored for a dozen pints and ridden the valve for seven songs). Perhaps it was the way that I leered at a bit of skirt in the lift (I didn't mean to, but I was hot off Wilson Picket and felt like The Big o'). Perhaps it was the wedding cake smeared across my chops. I don't what it could have been that could have put her off, but it was obvious I wasn't her kind.

As we passed the second floor from the basement dance floor and party I figured she was with the wedding party, but that she played for the other team. I couldn't remember her from the service. I sat with a good seat through the meal and still couldn't figure out who it was. As we glanced the second floor and the light spilled into the lift we were given the sight of young cousin Trevor with his trousers around ankles urinating into the lift. As the lift hurtled past at a pace that Appollo IV would have been proud, he soaked the whole left side of me. Before I could get a harsh word out, I heard him yell, saw a flash from below and then the lift went black and we both stood in darkness.

I am sure that shorting the lift was never Trevor's intention, but he would be reminded years after of his escapade. How the whole hotel lost all it's power for a period long enough for the groom to confuse a bridesmaid for the bride in the dark and for the lights to reveal the shortest marriage in the families history.

As I stood in the darkness I heard a wimper from the corner of the lift. I thought that the only manly thing to do was to reach out and comfort the young lady. Reassure that everything would be OK. Tell her that it would be a matter minutes before we were rescued. I put my hand out in the dark, looking for a shoulder. At first I thought that she had very soft shoulders. Before I had remembered that she was very toned and fit looking I was squealing like a horse with it's knackers in a clip. She had twisted my arm and thrust me against the wall. My nose had slid into the buttons of the 6th floor and down to basement just as her foot went into the back of my knee and I fell quickly to the floor. She grabbed my belt and undid my buckle. I foolishly muttered, "All you had to say was I..." and she turned me onto my belly, wrapped my elbow in the belt and then grabbed my feet. She tied my laces together and then put her knee into the middle of my back. As I buckled backwards into the pain I tried to yell, but found an apple thrust into my mouth.

As the lights in the lift came out, I found myself strangely attracted to the honey. As I looked up from her feet I could her longs legs and wondered why I hadn't done things differently. As she lifted her foot to push my head back to the floor I read the make of her heels, "Sue". I wondered what her name was, and baptised her Sue as I noticed just how dirty the carpet in the lift was. The lift moved to the fourth floor. Sue pulled the doors back and stepped out. She leaned in and pressed the basement button, closed the sliding grill doors behind her. As I started my descent she simply said, "Good night Soldier".

It took weeks to get people to believe that I had been robbed. The smell of Trevor's urine that stained my shirt was good enough to convince some people at the time. Most people simply noted that I had no money to be robbed and had begged for people to buy me drinks all night.

I stopped drinking after that night. Not for long, but long enough to respect the drink. I now only drink when in good company and with rooms with soft walls.

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Bobby Beamer published on April 1, 2004 11:11 PM.

The Loss of Tony "Bad Trunk" Illchester was the previous entry in this blog.

The Pop-corn Blues is the next entry in this blog.

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