The Lobby of the Driskill

In the lobby of the Driskill Hotel heals are tapping on the marble floor, groups of three and five are talking business and leisure, and servicemen are every so often moving quickly about. In a hotel so filled with history and class, the people here are casual. This hotel is a public place, although I didn’t at first think it that way. Classical music in the background, antique furniture, and restored details set the stage for guests in jeans and sneakers.

Reclining in my chosen wingback, I hear a group of friends or maybe relatives that have gathered to depart behind me. As they are possibly waiting for one or two more to join them, they are laughing at some memories and making plans for this evening. Adjacent to them is a group of three middle aged men with mustaches just adjourning a business meeting. From the look of their documents their work looks like something architectural or construction related.

And next to where these men just met, directly to my right, is a curious man in a dark green jacket. Balding and overweight, he sits alone, talking silently to himself. Occasionally making some hand motions, I suppose that he must be working something out in his head. Not particularly sad or angry, I can’t place an emotion to describe his condition. Frustrated and perplexed are too strong; he is just sitting, thinking, processing. He might be waiting, but not for anything soon. Passing the time seems right. Yes, he is sitting, passing the time and meanwhile thinking through something that has been bothering him for some time.

We both watch women walk by with dry cleaning, listen to the laughter deeper in the lobby and to the gentle music. We are aware of each other’s activity, yet each is just alone in the lobby of the Driskill Hotel.