Strangely, when googling this image, I read that the 9 of Diamonds is known as the Curse of Scotland. Irony.
We hopped out of our cab and joined a long line of people at the door to a hotel. The outside of the building was spotted with graffiti, but as we moved up the line I realized it was consistently the same image-the outline of a man's face. A bouncer at the door ID'd us, and then sent us into a long dark hallway where we were required to check coats and purses. The coat checks recommended we take credit cards with us for the lounge area. Everything was dark, moody, but urgent. We then made our way to the front desk, which was arranged like an actual hotel counter. As we checked in, we received two playing cards, the 8 of diamonds for me and the 9 of diamonds for Tiffany. We were then directed into a dark hallway with a series of turns, and only candles placed in corners to illuminate our way. Grasping each others arms in expectation of a haunted house type scare, we allowed a couple to go ahead of us to gauge the experience. No screaming drifted back to us, so we continued on, still holding onto each other for safety and comfort. I'm pretty sure we squealed a bit anyway.
Curtains parted ahead of us, and we found ourselves in a lush, red velvet draped lounge. Normal people like us mingled with glamorous actors dressed in 1940's style clothing, all playing roles steeped in mystery and menace. A table at the front of the room, manned by young, gothic women offered champagne and shots of absinthe. I thought it would be a great idea to try this beverage that I had heard so much about but never experienced. We bought two shots, and settled into a table to await the next phase of our experience.
A striking man in a tux (Leopold) drolly called out for all guests who were carrying the 8 of diamonds to join him. I panicked, realizing that Tiffany and I were about to be split up. I looked around for any 9 of diamonds, and switched with a woman who preferred to go in by herself. Then the 9's were called.
We all were handed white masks and moved into a small room with no windows adjacent to an elevator. Our new guide, a beautiful woman with a black evening gown and ruby lips, explained that we were to wear the masks at all times, there was to be NO talking, and that the only "safe" zone in the hotel was the lounge we had just exited. We were all then herded into the elevator, the silence heavy and expectant. Our elevator attendant let small groups off at each of the 5 floors that were utilized in this massive, intense and detailed performance.
Tiffany and I exited the elevator together, and were immediately enveloped in a film noir-esque home environment that spanned the whole floor. We were busy looking at the decor, noticing little details and figuring out what was going on when movement caught our attention. The actors/dancers/spooky people who make up the cast blend into the scenery and then explode into choreographed movement that is this company's interpretation of the story of Macbeth.
It was INTENSE. Tiffany and I were separated at a couple of points, when she saw a character moving in one direction and I noticed another walking determinedly in the other. At one point, she was in a room and as I was about to step in, the character I was following turned and slammed the door in my face. We ran after people, up stairs and down, and to be honest, after walking all day and a little bit of alcohol, I had sweat pouring off of me and I was panting, ready for a rest. What seemed like hours later, we ended up back in the lounge, where a band was accompanying a beautiful woman with a voice reminiscent of Billie and Ella. We plopped into an abandoned booth, and Tiffany went to chat with our emcee, the handsome tux wearing chap. I closed my eyes and tried to collect myself. I was ready to go home. I felt someone slide into the booth next to me, and opened my eyes to greet my friend. She was still standing by Leopold. It was our female guide.
Out of sorts, I stammered hello. She looked at me through her false eyelashes, and in a husky, dramatic voice asked me if I was in love. I laughed explosively, saying, "No" a bit too emphatically. "Do you want to be in love?" she asked, almost purring. "Umm. I guess it might be nice," I answered, not really sure where this was going. "What do you look for in a man...or woman...which do you like?" was her response. "Oh, most definitely men." She stared at me. After a moments hesitation, she muttered, "I think you will find love. Soon. I feel it will happen for you. A true love. A good love."
As this was the second time on this very day that I had had someone ask me about this specific subject, and had the very same response, I felt an eerie sense of something bigger than myself in play. Maybe I was supposed to be in New York. Maybe this year is the year. And I'm not talking about romantic love specifically, but maybe a more cosmic kind of love. A universal love. Positivity coming from the ether.
Or maybe that was the absinthe talking.
Catlady told us that we should head to the ballroom for a surprise. The surprise was...well. I'll keep it a surprise. But I'll hint at it with the joke, "No NOOSE is good NOOSE." It wasn't good noose.
More to come on the NYC adventures. If you care. :)
