As the normally romantic nostalgic holiday of Christmas was fast approaching and I was suddenly so very alone, I decided I needed to plan something for myself. Not just something to occupy my time…this needed to be special and meaningful and truly enjoyable seulment. And so I booked myself (and the dog) into the Heathman Hotel for the night, a swank historic building in the heart of Portland.
Dylan and I were going to be taking public transport the short distance downtown and bus regulations state only service animals are allowed, so I kitted her out in her red backpack and matching gentle-leader regalia and was busy making up a story should I be questioned…fortunately I wasn’t and we boarded as if we belonged.
After checking in and getting Dylan settled, I went out shopping. I wanted something extravagant…no, I needed something extravagant. Something that would say you are enough and you deserve beautiful things. And so I marched myself into Tiffany’s. That’s right, into Tiffany’s. Past the security guards and straight up to the posh looking salesperson behind the counter.
“Hello” I said. “I am looking for a gold ring to wear on my left hand because my husband has left me and I have X amount of cash.” Never one for subtly, me. I was lead over to one side, tried on some priceless things (watched like a hawk circling it’s prey all the while), made it round the room, and came back for the gold twist ring that fit my middle finger. Sort of an F.U. to my husband. The salesperson took my selection, put it into the iconic blue box and wrapped it in a red ribbon. Merry Christmas to me I thought as I walked out of the shop.
Deciding my night of financial debauchery would not be complete without a stop in the Goodwill Boutique, that is just where I took myself next. I found several new tops and changed into one of them (tags still on) as soon as I returned to the hotel and then went down to dinner…alone. Which was actually okay once the staff realized that I wasn’t waiting for anyone to join me and was in fact dining alone (why they didn’t get that when I said, “reservation for one for dinner please” is beyond me) so bloody serve me already. I ordered a beet salad (rediscovering my love for beets that could never be indulged in the marriage) and a winter squash risotto. With no dinner conversation, I looked around to my fellow diners for entertainment. The lady in the corner was having a great time with her companion and laughed like Phyllis Diller. Her hair was not unlike the actress either. I had soon cleaned my plate and charged it to the room (how I love charging things to the room) and then walked across the hall to drink a cocktail or two while listening to a jazz trio. Up to the room after that for a midnight raid of the snack bar and off to bed before coming down in the morning for a leisurely and expensive brunch with yes, another cocktail. Hair of the dog and all that.