Promises

Its past ten and most of the chairs and sofas on the elevated deck at the Novotel are occupied by revellers, who after a hard day at life, are making promises to some one they want to make promises with or with someone who they know they can’t. 

Either way, the place is swollen with promises. I can predict the length of the relationship and it’s honesty by the distance between the people. 

Those here on a date are, comfortably seated at arms length, some are closer... to hide discreetly, what’s never going to be... 

...some have just found love and are clinging to each other for dear life, while others are different husbands and different wives. 

I see this couple, the moment they step in and the lady looks at me and looks away... telling me ... that tonight she is taken... the man saunters of ahead, with a bulge in his pocket, telling me and the crowd, he is not going to spend legal money here. He looks for a place, where there is none, to make promises. 

After a futile attempt at scouring the deck, he looks at the bar... where I am seated with six other bar stools for company... walks to the bar man and asks for a place to take his woman. 

The bar man... who has seen it all and knows it’s so pointless, yet offers to find a place so promises can be made. 

I interrupt the melle to tell him to place his behind and that of his woman,  in a bar stool, ...now so forlorn, for no one comes asking for it anymore. Everyone wants a sofa and chair, since that’s where promises are traditionally made and broken 

He reluctantly sits next to a stool next to me and indicates to his muse for the evening to sit alongside. 

I order two of what I am drinking and then realise, he had probably planned to make promises over champagne. From the look of it, she is already regretting the promise she made to come out with him and he,  the fact that he doesn’t have a sofa or a chair to make his list of promises..

Tomorrow morning, it will all be gone .. the people, the bar stools, the sofas and the chairs... and the promises made over champagne. The spirit would continue to linger till its twilight again and another me,  comes along to look at people on chairs and tables ... making promises that won’t see the light of day. 

Another night at Gadda Da Vida is looking promising ..