Will I remember the joy of spending time in hotel lobbies, waiting for colleagues to come down? Now that I am soon to retire, these experiences of going on business trips will no longer happen. I often go down to the lobby an hour early to drink a cup of tea and observe the going-ons.
In the world of business, folks feel very important, their movements in groups so purposeful. Late nights in the bar, they drink to wind down and get closer. Wanting these days to be special. Yet, come morning, three types of persons gather to face a further day together.
The ones who drank too much and said too much, Strangely, they feel no remorse. Long ago, they convinced themselves life was too short to look back with any regrets for their behaviour. Not even one day.
Then there are those who are woozy with a hangover-like state, something they haven't experienced since the last time they were on a business trip. They look contrite. Hoping the others do not think less of them, though they do of themselves.
The last are the Stranglers, those who returned to their rooms before "the fun started", having spoken an undefined, whispered excuse. They have absolutely no wish to connect over drinks with colleagues outside of office hours. They don't consider themselves anti-social, but whatever is happening at the bar is of no interest to them. They know they are considered different and are unhappy about not being a part of the blend. Still, they are happy in themselves.
Sitting in the lobby, I watch them flow out of the elevators. They are drawn to the nucleus of the first joiner, but after cursory greetings, they move back into ever-equidistant circles. The whiff of drunken joviality from the evening before dissipates quickly into the space between the hotel's sterile walls. It is business as usual.
(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)
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