The Goddess Effect Act III, part eight
On flying high and falling down
Where have I been? An excellent question. I am guilty of, in more ways than one, biting off more than I can chew, and I took a big, heaping serving of summer late last month, when I accepted an assignment in the South of France (tough job, I know), which sent me on a tailspin of breathtaking vistas and buttery croissants that disrupted my workflow in a predictable way.
I profiled a 52-year-old former commercial real estate developer who pivoted to — wait for it — swimsuits that function as well as they fit, as she demonstrated when she dove off the bow of a boat to secure a prime 12-top at a sea-to-table restaurant next to a nude beach. You can’t make this stuff up, folks! Read all about it here.
Also recently published: my New Wine Review guide to Hong Kong, one of the most delicious cities I’ve had the pleasure of visiting, most recently in March. Out of this world: the salty Negroni at Bluhouse, the dandan noodles at Grand Majestic Sichuan, and the wing dedicated to the Japanese artist Ay-O at the art museum M+. Take a gander at these rainbows and try not to be uplifted, I dare you!
I returned home from France to attend the annual American Library Association conference in San Diego, where I signed a raft of copies of Friends in Napa and supped with fellow Amazon authors and editors.
Then it was off to London to visit the newly (and fabulously) refurbished Old War Office building — you, too, can sit at the desk where Churchill once wrote, though I’m still not convinced that it’s really his desk because shouldn’t that be in a museum or on Ebay or something? — and the coast of Morocco, where the vista-croissant onslaught resumed, unabated, and about which I’ll write more, soon.
If all of this sounds too fabulous for words, know that a couple hours before I was due to fly home, I fell while running and managed to tear open my knees as well as my right hand. Changing bandages on an 11 hour flight: not the best! I self-medicated with a wickedly funny movie and a wistful book.
But it’s a been a minute (or a month) since I’ve dropped an installment of the heretofore unseen Director’s Cut of The Goddess Effect, so we’re going to stop the preamble right here and, like the swimsuit-trepeneur, dive on in. Chapter 25 finds Anita at the V.I.P. after hours brainstorm, which is like no white boarding session you’ve ever experienced.
If you’re catching up, might I suggest:
25
Walking out of the elevator, Anita saw a few women in low cut, sequined rompers encircling a large man in a suit at the end of the hall. She looked down and wondered if she should have put on something more “after hours” than the dress that had gotten her through two panels, a liquid nitrogen mixology class, a farm to table dinner (though all the food came via barge from a farm on Maui, as Lanai’s had nothing to offer but pineapples), and a solo show by an 14-year-old electric violin virtuoso, after which she and Max parted ways. She hadn’t thought to bring Vegas apparel to Hawaii, to what appeared to be a networking conference, but as the past several hours had shown, she had miscalculated Evolve in the same way that she first miscalculated the Gig. People came to this conference not for intellectual stimulation or professional opportunities or even, despite the panel titled “Next Level Meditation: How to Market Your Mantra to Your Mind,” spiritual enlightenment. They came for a good time. Sequins foretold a good time.
She was far enough down the hall that they wouldn’t notice her surreptitiously filming them, but still within earshot:
Romper one: “Please? He texted me an invitation, look, see my phone?”
Bouncer: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, only people with the invite on the app screen can come in.”
Romper two: “First of all, we’re not with this loser conference, we only came to Oracle because he asked us to, and second — did you REALLY just call her ‘ma’am?’ We still get carded when we go out!”
Romper one: “I have not been getting my forehead botox-ed for 10 years so I can be called ‘ma’am’ by some bouncer at a hotel. What is this, training so you can be a real bouncer at a club one day?”
Bouncer: “Miss, excuse me, but really, I need you all to back up.”
Romper three: “Why don’t you just call Paul and tell him to come get us?”
Romper two: “His phone is off! UGH I knew I should have just slept with him at the Beverly Hills Hotel when I had the chance, instead we had to fly all the way out to this god forsaken island. Who the fuck wants to go to Hawaii?” She flung her purse down, petulant.
Anita had approached to the point where she could no longer record them without being obvious, so she clicked on the Evolve app and showed the bouncer the screen. The rompers regarded her with expressions of equal parts disgust and befuddlement.
Romper one: “How does SHE get to get in?”
Bouncer: “SHE has an invitation.” With one hand, he held up a key card and pushed down on the handle. With his other arm, he blocked the rompers, who peered inside, mournful and curious, as Anita slipped through, the door latching behind her.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Your Friend on the Ground to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.