After the concert in Santa Barbara, we returned to the hotel in LA by bus. The following morning, before another bus trip to Costa Mesa, there is just time for breakfast. I wait for the elevator. Bing! The doors open and already inside are three women I don’t know and MTT.
“Good morning Gareth and how are we this morning?” he asks with a smile.
“I’m fine Michael thank you.”
We resume normal positions, all lined up like soldiers facing the front, not speaking; elevator etiquette is pretty much the same the world over. The doors close and we glide down towards the lobby in silence. Suddenly Michael speaks again to the lift.
“And...how was your ménage a trois last night Gareth?”
The women in the elevator shift uncomfortably. Silence.
We stop at the next floor, nobody gets in or out. The doors close again and we descend towards the lobby.
“I feel I should explain,’’ i say, still facing the front, “that ménage a trois was the name of the wine we were drinking last night.”
The atmosphere relaxes a little, but all the same, they leave promptly when we reach the lobby. Michael smiles a wicked smile and strides off in the other direction.
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