Sunday, February 21, 2010


Last night, I spent my evening at the quaint Hotel Le Petit in West Hollywood. The hotel is nestled on a neighborly block and boasts a bohemian feel, which I love. The bar is located on the top floor as part of the restaurant, with indoor and outdoor areas covered in flowers, vines, and beautiful art that give it a French garden feel. The outdoor areas have surprisingly amazing views of LA and the pool and fire pit sections are my favorite of any hotel around. Since it was raining, I stuck inside with only a small birthday party and the waitstaff. I ordered a decaf coffee and was prepared for nothing to happen to me.

Drinking my 6 dollar cup of joe (really?!), one of the managers in a suit came over to chat with me. He asked if I was alright. Then two waiters asked the same thing. I was starting to feel that as a girl alone here, I had to be either in grave danger or emotionally distressed. Under pressure and breaking my rule in not giving an excuse for being alone, I ended up telling everyone I was meeting a friend down the street, but he was running late, so I stopped in here. The manager said I was a very "patient" girl and that is a great virtue. Yes, I felt guilty for lying and vowed to try much harder next time. He showed me around the grounds and I learned they have wine tastings and movie nights. I want to come! He said they are private events for hotel guests, but maybe I could join; he was actually surprised I was even let into the bar. Apparently, you need a key to get to the 4th floor, the receptionist had just let me up.

The manager introduced me to a striking man and I ended up sitting with him on the patio table as the rain had stopped. He was soon joined by the birthday party, a group of South American models and socialites. They were drinking expensive Champagne and chatting about their Porsches, many homes and trips to Peru and Paris. People were coming in and out, but the man and I ended up with this one fiery Latina women, her friend, and the Birthday Boy.

I wasn't exactly feeling comfortable with this whole scene and was thinking as I stared at a 4 carat diamond, what am I doing here? Oh wait, I am making myself do this. I was trying to figure out if the man I was sitting with was hitting on me as the woman complimented my skin and eyes. I was completely sober as she was getting drunker and more incoherent. She was telling a funny story and I must have laughed too loudly because she turned to me and said, "Don't you laugh at me, I will scratch your eyes out." Was she serious? Something had gone terribly awry. A few minutes later, she said every woman in my career is cheap. I asked her to clarify and she replied, "Oh, I should have realized. That is why you are wearing that sweater." Whatever that meant, I had no idea, but I felt my face heat up, like I was in 7th grade and someone had made fun of me in front of the popular kids. Ironically, that sweater is the most expensive piece of clothing I have ever owned.

They were all talking again in drunken speech and she might have even forgotten what she just said. I felt like everything was all of sudden very wrong and I needed to get out of there fast. I waited a few minutes to leave so it did not look like I was going just because someone took a jab at me. I curtly said goodbye to the man next to me. The birthday boy was sad to see me go and I avoided eye contact with the ladies. As I turned back to the table, the man gave me the most knowing yet vacant look. Was he sad to see me go, apologizing for his friend or judging me as well?

I felt hurt, offended and utterly weirded out by the whole night. I like to think of myself as a nice person and haven't had to subject myself to "mean girls" in a long time. Luckily, my dear neighbors were home when I got back to my apartment and I made them each hug me for a long time.

1 comment:

Scurry Nurry said...

Definitely not your regular night out on the town. So glad I was next door to give you a huge hug :)