August 17, 2007

I Choose Flâneuse: A Tale in Four Parts, with each part increasingly shorter

IV. PART FOUR.

Growing up literate and pretty in the Wild West is sometimes a burden on a girl. As a young woman I frequently fantasized that some French guy or a like-minded gent from the Upper South would just show up and take me outta there - to the Left Bank, Covent Garden, Peggy Guggenheim's villa on the Grand Canal, or even New York City, especially Fifth Avenue and Greenwich Village. Many of the young men that I met in my real life just wanted to sit in air-conditioning, drink any kind of beer and watch the Dallas Cowboys on TV.

I tell you this so you understand my background and state of mind when I returned to my study after a day of self doubts and confusion. There I found, in my computer's inbox, a letter from a mysterious M. de Vouvray from La Société des Flaneurs Sans Frontières. Being a grown woman now, I first checked it for viruses. The charming letter began with many pleasantries and some technical web matters of transatlantic diplomacy, but then the missive cut to the chase with an alarming announcement! M. de Vouvray, a marquis, said that the society has appointed me the chair of the New York branch of La Société des Flaneurs Sans Frontières, whether I like it or not! Shocking! Fabulous! Maybe they foisted this honor upon me because I was the first New Yorker to contact them. That is probable. But I like to think it was because I am pretty and originally from the Wild West.

Upon receiving this honor and distinction, my mood greatly improved! When I read that my new office entitled me to the "inalienable right to drink absinthe and champagne in excess wherever and whensoe'er the mood takes you," I felt like celebrating!

At that very moment my eyes happened upon a half bottle of absinthe in the corner of the room. I have no idea how it got there. After locating a slotted spoon made for such a purpose and a sugar cube, I drank some absinthe the traditional way, enjoying just a taste. I was thinking about fetching some champagne from the kitchen when I heard a rustle at the window pane, and happy me!... It was Titania, Puck and Peaseblossom showing off their new cell phones and looking, as always, for a good party.

Later, after listening to music and discussing the relative merits of this new band and that, Titania said that we should all stroll, or fly as the case may be, to Central Park, "like we did last night," watch the play and then swim. In the end, we nixed the idea and decided to call it a night. Tentative plans were made to meet early for breakfast and then a walk down Broadway.

But we stayed up anyway, chatting and dancing to the break of day.

THE END.

Sweet Peace.

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