ATTN: Manager (Mark)

In her 2019 book, “American Cosmic”, Diane Pasulka Walsh explores the many cases of human encounters with UFO’s and aliens - a phenomenon experienced by thousands of people all over the planet. Many are familiar with the folklore of “encounters” ; those life-changing, mystical, paranormal, supernatural, and unexplainable experiences with another entity. Walsh goes further, to an even more common experience many have, but few recognise - the book encounter. Yes, an encounter with a book. Indeed it can be any form of media. She has observed that for many people, an idea expressed in full; a book, a film, a place, a photograph, a conversation - can yield similar effects to those of the more alien kind. I was sceptical of it all, unsure of the evidence, until I stepped foot in your hotel.

It was my birthday that Friday in May, and I was looking forward to checking in. Upon arrival that afternoon, I received what can only be described as the star treatment. I felt like I had left this world and escaped, with a little melancholy. The piano in the lobby beckoned me in. The luxurious reception desk trimmed with gold was manned by Mark, who was very helpful and complimented my suitcase. Melodies in the elevator up to my suite took me further, I knew already this hotel was like no other. I began to marvel again.

My room was plush, perfectly assembled, and decorated with taste. Mirrors, satin curtains, patterned carpets - in perfect symmetry. I kicked off the bags and hopped on the bed, thinking about birthdays gone by and how old I now was. The room almost acknowledged my ennui, and time seemed to stand still. The lobby piano chords were still shimmering in my head. After browsing the books on the coffee table (I loved A Pattern Language), I freshened up and decided to make the most of my stay.

American sports on the television would usually put me off a place. But as I sipped a martini (a usual birthday tradition of mine) , and a couple more, the spectacle began to suck me in. Plus, the only other option was the doom-on-repeat news channel on the TV above the till. I winced at a few tackles, and cringed to myself about something that happened 6 years ago. The martinis missed their mark, and I began to feel exasperated. I never thought, in a million years I’d be here now.

Each time the double doors opened I could hear the band. The drum fills and gorgeous guitars were whining from the back. The bass guitar hooked and dragged me into the casino. By now, a sort of magical thinking had caught me - I felt intrigued, like this was a movie set and all the guests were characters just saying their lines. The crescent moon hung perfectly framed in the full-height window, beautiful women with their friends circled everywhere, a veteran pulled a slot machine lever, ice chinked in my glass. I wandered dazed, watching all around me, trying to reach the level of all the characters around me. I played a hand here and there, won some, lost some. At the back, the band were now joined by the pianist from the lobby. They were imperious, directing the casino floor - it was their set, and nobody knew it.

From that point on, I decided to join the dream-like scene fully, and become another extra in this Act. I celebrated with the handbrake off. I’ve been on some benders, but nothing quite like that night at the Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino. I still can’t put my finger on the feeling your establishment left me with. In the midst of melancholy, listlessness, and some reminiscing , you had a room for every occasion. I’ve left a rating online, and I’d return again with a friend - but the truth is, I never quite left.

#letter #fiction