Windows That Open

Act 1 Scene (3)

Why not begin without Sorrow, stuffed, inside our prednisone imagined research vessel’s galley which will require, like the Rumson Hotel’s wood floored kitchen, windows that open, and thank goodness, lots of them?

I was taking biology then my high school sophomore year (never would I take a single course in chemistry) when I mixed bleach and ammonia with hot water in the mop bucket that Sunday. If those windows had not been there in the forty or so foot long space between the kitchen and dining room we called the bowling alley, I doubt there would have been dinner service that evening.

In this too brief homage to Irving, whose work I lived in, the hotel in question was not in New Hampshire, or New England, but could just as easily have been.

Open windows represent salvation, at least to those who keep passing them.

You might ask, can a screen play named Godzilla vs anything get away with such preposterous suppositions? To such I would quip smartly “It’s my Movie” the Acid Test passed before I finished busing at What’s Your Beef, the following summer. I read Irving, I think, before I read Kesey. I could shout out to cooks Hum Bu and Ho Ling, as this is a draft, although I am not even sure if they are still living, let alone the spelling.

It was at WYB, that the bus boys made all the salad dressings, for less than minimum wage, that I am not even sure they were reporting. My fourth shot at busing did not last long, I was soon back in the kitchen, and out of the dining room for a long time.

Sorrow floats, according to Irving. No less than the research vessels I imagined on the prednisone. The British must have their happy endings. I tend to lean toward leaving that decision to the imagination. My feel-good moments are free of obvious cultural manipulation. But to make Godzilla Vs The Jersey Devil a hit, I will defer to marketing.