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- The more I thought about my gloves and my yellowness, the more depressed I
got, and I decided, while I was walking and all, to stop off and have a drink somewhere.
I'd only had three drinks at Ernie's, and I didn't even finish the last one. One thing I have,
it's a terrific capacity. I can drink all night and not even show it, if I'm in the mood. Once,
at the Whooton School, this other boy, Raymond Goldfarb, and I bought a pint of Scotch
and drank it in the chapel one Saturday night, where nobody'd see us. He got stinking, but
I hardly didn't even show it. I just got very cool and nonchalant. I puked before I went to
bed, but I didn't really have to--I forced myself.
Anyway, before I got to the hotel, I started to go in this dumpy-looking bar, but
two guys came out, drunk as hell, and wanted to know where the subway was. One of
them was this very Cuban-looking guy, and he kept breathing his stinking breath in my
face while I gave him directions. I ended up not even going in the damn bar. I just went
back to the hotel.
The whole lobby was empty. It smelled like fifty million dead cigars. It really did.
I wasn't sleepy or anything, but I was feeling sort of lousy. Depressed and all. I almost
wished I was dead.
Then, all of a sudden, I got in this big mess.
The first thing when I got in the elevator, the elevator guy said to me, "Innarested
in having a good time, fella? Or is it too late for you?"
"How do you mean?" I said. I didn't know what he was driving at or anything.
"Innarested in a little tail t'night?"
"Me?" I said. Which was a very dumb answer, but it's quite embarrassing when
somebody comes right up and asks you a question like that.
"How old are you, chief?" the elevator guy said.
"Why?" I said. "Twenty-two."
"Uh huh. Well, how 'bout it? Y'innarested? Five bucks a throw. Fifteen bucks the
whole night." He looked at his wrist watch. "Till noon. Five bucks a throw, fifteen bucks
till noon."
"Okay," I said. It was against my principles and all, but I was feeling so depressed
I didn't even think. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you
can't even think.
"Okay what? A throw, or till noon? I gotta know."
"Just a throw."
"Okay, what room ya in?"
I looked at the red thing with my number on it, on my key. "Twelve twenty-two,"
I said. I was already sort of sorry I'd let the thing start rolling, but it was too late now.
"Okay. I'll send a girl up in about fifteen minutes." He opened the doors and I got
out.
"Hey, is she good-looking?" I asked him. "I don't want any old bag."
"No old bag. Don't worry about it, chief."
"Who do I pay?"
"Her," he said. "Let's go, chief." He shut the doors, practically right in my face.
I went to my room and put some water on my hair, but you can't really comb a
crew cut or anything. Then I tested to see if my breath stank from so many cigarettes and
the Scotch and sodas I drank at Ernie's. All you do is hold your hand under your mouth
and blow your breath up toward the old nostrils. It didn't seem to stink much, but I
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