So Alive
(Ash, D/ Jay, D/ Haskins, K) Performed by Love and Rockets
I don't know what color your eyes are, baby
But your hair is long and brown
Your legs are strong, and you're so, so long
And you don't come from this town
My head is full of magic, baby
And I can't share this with you
The feel I'm on a cross again, lately
But there's nothing to do with you
I'm alive, huh, huh, so alive
I'm alive, huh, huh so alive
Your strut makes me crazy
Makes me see you more clearly
Oh, baby, now I can see you
Wish I could stop
Switch off the clock
Make it all happen for you
I'm alive, huh, huh, so alive
I'm alive, huh, huh so alive
I don't know what color your eyes are, baby
But your hair is long and brown
Your legs are strong, and you're so, so long
And you don't come from this town
My head is full of magic, baby
And I can't share this with you
The feel I'm on top again, baby
That's got everything to do with you
I'm alive, huh, huh, so alive
I'm alive, huh, huh so alive
Du dn du
Du dn du
Du dn du
Du dn du
Du dn du
Du dn du
Ooh
Du dn du
Du dn du
Ooh
Du dn du
Du dn du
Ooh
Du dn du
Du dn du
Ooh
Du dn du
Du dn du
Ooh
I'll just say I was busy with Christmas and its aftermath -- both at work and home -- and blame that for not picking up the story of my life for nearly two months now; and to reorient the story, it is now 1989, Dave and I are both working at the Mayfair Hotel in Edmonton, and while I was struggling to support myself and couldn't give much thought to the future, I was definitely happy and free. A note on the song: it is thematically related to the way I was feeling that year, but more importantly, this was a huge radio hit and marked a turning point for the music I had been listening to for the few years prior: all the moody alternative stuff had gone mainstream, and so had I. Working at the hotel's restaurant, I grew out my wacky hair and bought myself some conservative clothes; I joined the adult club.
I also moved into my own apartment that spring -- after Rob moved out of the house and then Curtis started looking for a more private set-up, I also bailed on Joyce; our loosely aligned friend who turned out to be a pain to live with -- and I found a no frills bachelor apartment in a high rise that suited me to a tee (but which Dave and Delight will still giggle and shiver over as though I had lived for a time in a dangerous gangland ghetto; this was a newish building with underground parking and 24 hour security guards and I never once felt unsafe; but might have just been naive). I still didn't have any furniture, or even a bed (still sleeping on the IKEA foam pad that I bought when we first moved up), and I totally didn't care: I loved this, my own apartment, and even with a two burner stove (no oven) and a bar-sized fridge, it honestly had everything I needed.
And yet, as cheap as my rent was and as meagre as my other needs were, being a restaurant hostess -- earning minimum wage and no tips -- wasn't enough to support myself with. I told the hotel management that I was going to need to look for other work, and to my surprise, they offered to train me on the front desk: now that's an adult job, for sure. I loved being the first person to greet a new guest, loved filling out the little info cards and passing out the oversized keys. I loved routing calls up to the rooms through the switchboard and taking requests for wake up calls. All these little (easy) tasks made me feel essential and efficient.
Now, about that picture up there. In an effort to expand business, our little downtown hotel -- which was owned by a large chain of more impressive hotels -- decided to put a dinner theatre in the basement. And to make a buzz for its grand opening, the first play produced was Mass Appeal, starring Gale Gordon. Mr. Gordon became a fixture around the hotel, living in a suite with his wife, and periodically calling down to the front desk, and with his booming made-for-radio voice, would intone, "Yes, this is Gale Gordon speaking in room three three three. What is the soup of the day?" The first time he asked me that, I offered to transfer him to the restaurant, but that was decidedly not what he wanted: I was to get the answer and call him back. Which I was happy to do. And because of which, I always found out what the soup of the day was before I started any subsequent shifts at the front desk.
Dave and I went to see that play when it opened, and it was a fine production, and Gale Gordon was amazing. Despite being in his 80s at this point (and despite us knowing that he had prompts for his lines taped out of view behind various props), Mr. Gordon's voice and presence never let him down.
During the run of Mass Appeal was when Lucille Ball passed away, and I first learned the news during my shift at the front desk when a number of reporters called, trying to get a reaction from her longtime comedy partner, Gale Gordon. I had no idea what the protocol would be: Put through every caller? Put through none? This was an old man who I presumed was shocked by the news, but I was a front desk clerk, not his private secretary. I had to call over a manager who decided to screen the calls himself. At one point Gale Gordon's son called and asked to be put through, which I did without hesitation, but then had to wonder if that was a ruse (but would it have been? Just how important would it have been for Hollywood reporters to get a statement from Gale Gordon? No clue.) Eventually, the buzz died down, the show went on, and I delighted every time Gale Gordon called down to inquire about the soup. (Dave has a story about using an in-house phone to call the restaurant, and impersonating Gale Gordon, loudly berating the waitress who answered for not sending up any soup that day; Dave finally relented when the girl broke down in tears.) The bonus about that picture up there: that's not unlike how Dave and I will look in another twenty years; just living the sitcom.
The only other good story I have from the front desk involved one evening when Dave and I were off work and drinking in the lounge. The bar manager came in in a tizzy, and seeing me and Dave, came over and said he needed our help. Apparently, a couple of sketchy looking guys were seen sneaking into a back hallway that gave access to the dinner theater, and as there was no show that night, they were obviously there to rob the place. Fraser wanted me to watch the front desk (although I had been drinking and was dressed in jeans and a casual top), so he, the night desk clerk, and Dave could go confront the thieves. I did not think this was a good idea, but the cops had been called, were no doubt on their way, and Fraser wanted to interrupt whatever was going on. I reluctantly stood behind the front desk -- trying hard not to breathe alcohol fumes on the few clients to come through the lobby -- and worked myself into a tizzy when the guys were gone for far too long. I ended up calling 911 again and explaining that some hotel employees had gone to confront the would-be burglars, but dispatch advised me that wouldn't get a cruiser there any sooner, and it felt like I waited forever for the cops to show up and the guys to come back. Funny: I 100% remember how anxious and out-of-place I felt behind the front desk that night, but don't really remember the resolution -- there was definitely a confrontation with the thieves that the police arrived just in time to interrupt, but was anyone hurt? I know Dave wasn't hurt, but beyond that, no memory at all.
In the end, I found it hard to support myself even on the higher wages from the front desk job, and although management did their best to try and keep me -- a bit more money and a free meal per shift -- I decided to leave and try for something better. I was so happy -- so alive -- during this year at the hotel, but the reality was that sometimes Dave and I would go to the lounge for a pop at happy hour just to eat the free hot snacks (and some days, that was all I'd really have to eat). Working at the Mayfair hadn't felt like my future at the time, but there's worse work: I wonder where I would have ended up if I had stayed and eventually gotten into hotel management? Funny that never occurred to me at the time; I think I was just playing at being a grownup after all.
