Life On The Road As A Musician ~ The Miracle Of Jenny

Vocal Performance by TheBugIQ

There is a hotel that has been flying me out to play music for them occasionally for many years now. I play in their opulent lobby lounge when they have VIPs in town, which is always. Sometimes it is very short notice for them when particularly famous or important people are coming to town to stay with them. It is, therefore, very short notice for me when they call. It’s a very simple equation. I either have the room in my schedule and can fly out, or I am booked already and simply can’t. As with any good relationship, we both accept that. Often, I am called at the request of a particular guest or guests and I am, of course, happy to accommodate if my schedule allows.

The hotel itself is a wonder to behold and is a miracle of natural wood, glass, marble and stone. It is nestled high in the mountains in Alberta, Canada and is not open to the public. It serves a very select clientele looking for more than a place to stay. They are, quite simply, looking for an experience where they can be treated like regular people without being interrupted during their meals to sign an autograph or take a photo.

It is not uncommon to see the Canadian Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau and his wife Sophie having coffee with Tom Cruise, or Ashton and Mila holding hands across their table enjoying the feeling of a normal, tranquil relationship without camera flashes from random people. Bruce Willis sometimes gets away with individual members of his family like Rumer or Tallulah to have some special time that is just not possible in the real world. It is a place of fantasy. Of safety and solace. The famous nod to one another like strangers on the street moving slightly out of the other’s way as they stroll past.

The hotel recently flew me out to Calgary, and I loaded my gear into the waiting Land Rover. A couple hours drive past Banff, and we eventually wound our way up the narrow, winding private road and arrived at the gatehouse. The routine was the same every time. I show the email invitation with my passport and place my hand on a tablet that scans it. Final approval comes from the hotel security bunker over a live feed, and the heavy steel gates swing open to allow us to pass.

From that point on everything appears normal. Security does not have much of a visible presence in the hotel, and you would never know that there are fully geared up tactical teams on call at each end of the hotel 24 hours a day. They work twelve men to a team in twelve hour shifts in air conditioned rooms wearing full body armor. Weapons are on the wall beside the door, and each guard’s helmet rests on top of his rifle barrel. There is no hope of surprising and overwhelming them. The dozen men quietly talk and play cards while another dozen have individually hardened positions 10 metres apart all the way from the guard room to a private atrium that allows them to break out into the hotel from ten different positions.

That said, should anyone dream of attacking the hotel, the tactical teams would be the least of their worries. Every casual staff member is trained to an elite status and are experts in empty handed combat and weapons of all types. They had also undergone extensive acting classes to learn how to play the frightened victim and give a convincing sob story. While pleading for their own life they could kill an attacker in a heartbeat the moment an opportunity presented itself. If desired they could simply incapacitate with devastating and advanced krav maga and jiu jitsu skills.

You may be asking yourself how I could possibly know anything about the hotel’s secret security response teams. The answer is simple. I helped set them up. I was the head of security for the Delta Hotel attached to the Calgary International Airport Hotel. When I was in charge in 1990 it was a Canadian Pacific (Railway) Hotel. Then, simply called the CP Hotel or Airport Hotel. Myself, along with a team of other hand picked professionals, had designed and implemented a system that was physically impossible to overcome without a force more than ten times the number.

But my security days were behind me now, and tonight I would be playing music in what was called the lobby lounge. A vast expanse of space with towering floor to ceiling marble pillars and granite tile. The acoustics were incredible and rivaled any amphitheatre or cathedral in the world. The exquisite craftsmanship and furnishings throughout the gorgeous hotel was only rivaled by the stunning views of the mountains on all sides. I would be singing my strains at the top of a mountain at an unknown resort that was refuge to the famous. It is an awesome gig to have, and I rarely lose my composure unless Kate Beckinsale and Evangeline Lilly walk by at the same time. No one asks for autographs or pauses for pictures unless they are old friends or feel comfortable enough to ask. Even the rich and famous are fans too.

Her name tag said Jenny and her ethnicity and age were indiscernible. She could have been 25 or 35 and her lightly sunned skin was flawless. I tried not to hesitate when I saw her or be too obvious. I slightly turned my back to look at the surrounding lobby as I tried to get my heart rate under control. As I turned back towards Jenny she finished punching my information into the computer. I saw an amused, and knowing look in her eye, and the tiniest bit of secret joy she had in knowing she’d knocked me off my feet. I continued to play it straight, and she continued to see through me. She was a goddess and she knew it, but it didn’t permeate her spirit or soul. She possessed a beauty born of knowledge and confidence. The knowledge that beauty is fleeting, and the confidence that it had not yet flit.

I finished checking in and nodded to Jenny, who smiled back professionally, with a twist of twinkle as I took the key she offered me. It was 4PM and the first thing I did was roll my gear trolly over to the lounge and set up my sound system for the evening. Then I tuned my guitar, placed it on its stand and went up to my room to shower and change. Before I headed up I put in my prime rib meal order with the lounge.

When I returned, my meal was being walked over to me as I seated myself at a table beside a bank of windows. I sat overlooking the valley that ran between two mountains which towered above the hotel on either side. I ordered a KilKenny beer with an iced glass and settled in for an incredible meal paired with amazing views of the sun setting over the mountain pass.

The time passed quickly and I was sure to keep my back politely to the front desk so as to not to be too distracting to Jenny or myself. I hate making people feel uncomfortable, and although I thought we had made a bit of a connection, I did not want to assume that was the case.

I took to the stage at 7PM sharp and began my first set. I would be playing through the dinner and cocktail hours until 10PM. As I picked up my guitar and brought up my house volume, I glanced around the room and saw many recognizable faces ordering their meals. The buzz of conversation was pleasant and steady.

I pressed play on my first track, strummed my first chord and leaned into the mic with Ed Sheeran’s Thinkin’ Out Loud. As I sang the first line of the song, I was taking the temperature of the room to see how I was being received. The room seemed pleasantly surprised and was instantly receptive. A few people raised their glasses to me, and one couple got up to dance since they were waiting for their meals to arrive anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye and across the lobby, I could see Jenny’s head snap up as I started singing. The front desk was clearly visible from where I sat, and thankfully there was no one there at the moment. The lobby lights glinted off what appeared to be a tear gently travelling down her cheek. Her hair was up in a bun and her exquisite face was beautifully lit by the room’s ambient light. I could feel her gaze on me until the very last line of Thinkin’ Out Loud faded with, ‘Maybe we found love right where we are.’ I could see her slowly drop her head and dab her eye with a tissue. She then continued working as if nothing had happened.

I made sure my glance was only a split second, and continued making occasional eye contact with my audience as I continued playing. It surprised me that my music had elicited that reaction from Jenny. It was satisfying and a little surreal. I would be playing for two more nights, so who knew how my weekend would go?

I finished up my last set a little past 10PM to accommodate a few song requests, chatted with a few people, then headed upstairs. I even left my mic, mixer and guitar set up with the sound system. No one was stealing anything in this place. The light knock on my door came at 11:55PM exactly. I remember because I had just then glanced at my watch the moment before the knock came. I opened the door without looking through the peephole. No need to be worried about much in a benign fortress.

When the door swung fully open, there was Jenny. Her long auburn hair was down and still wet from the shower she had just taken. She was in her overall jeans and tee shirt with a small, thin strapped purse slung from shoulder to waist. The strap accented her breasts as it lay diagonally across her chest. She walked in as if we had been married for 30 years, placed both hands on my chest, leaned up and kissed me softly. No rush, just a familiar greeting between souls separated from another time.

She brushed past me into the room knowing she was welcome. She continued out onto the balcony and into the freezing mountain air. Ice immediately began to form on her wet hair as I followed her out to see the night view of the mountains surrounding us. Neither of us spoke. We both leaned onto the balcony stonework with our arms folded, shivering a little while breathing in the ice cold air. Leaning against each other, we held hands and softly caressed each other’s fingers. Her head moved left, inviting me to lean right, and I did. We stayed like that for a long time.

Her kisses tasted of vanilla and her damp hair smelled like pineapple and coconut. An intoxicating combination especially when mixed with the pure, cold mountain air. I wouldn’t call what we had sex. Many people categorize sex as great sex, ok sex, I’ve had better, terrible, makeup, revenge and more. This was none of those things that people engage in. It was the tranquility of two minds entering each others souls with bodies intertwined. She offered me no explanation for the events of that night or the nights that followed, and I never asked. Whatever it was that we had together, it was well beyond the bounds of explanation. My voice and music had pierced her heart and impaled her soul, and she simply accepted this without question or unnecessary complication.

Lovemaking with Jenny was unlike any experience I have had with another woman. She is not a drinker because she simply doesn’t like the taste of alcohol and never has. Similarly, smoking and drugs had never held any interest for her.

This made our physical interaction the sweetest experience possible. She was wholly present. Her eyes held mine and mine hers. Our conversations were relaxed and unrushed, whether sitting across from each other at the small hotel room table or sitting on the bed. Jenny would often sit on my lap in the large armchair, and with her feet pulled up she would have a distracted finger softly stroking my hand, ear or neck while we talked.

We spoke quietly and kisses came unexpectedly. They were delightful, soft and lingering. Time became irrelevant as we flowed in and out of conversation with tiny, physical interjections while lightly touching each other. Prolonged hugs often left us feeling more fulfilled than our lovemaking. Jenny would lay her head on my shoulder and softly breathe on my neck and sometimes she’d fall asleep. Our physical connection was unrushed, and our time in bed seemed like everything else in life was simply waiting to be back here together again.

There had been others in my life who liked substances, and were not averse to drinking or drugs before making love. I never objected if that was someone’s thing, but sometimes it felt a little like someone having to anesthetize themselves to the idea of making love to another person with full, cognitive clarity. Jenny needed none of that to relax and be in the moment.

That’s what made it so special. And that is what made it thrilling and sad at the same time. I never knew when or if I would see her again. We never swapped information. The hotel flies me out to sing, and if she’s at the front desk working she simply glances at me, and I know I will hear a knock on my door later that night. A little twinkle in her eye is all the confirmation I need, and she is ready for me to answer with a yes or a no. I always twinkle back my affirmation.

Cold mountain air, vanilla, pineapple, coconut and wet hair. Add a nose crinkled smile on top of that, and I am hers for as long as this life allows.

For this Share I am highlighting the following skills:
my original, creative writing,
vocal performance, recording, mixing and mastering
photography,
and creative computer skills putting together the slide show and timing the photos to taste.

These are all talents and skills that live within the broad scope of The Artist Project. I continue to be filled with hope and wonder at the incredible talents I see blooming all around us.

©Original short story by TheBugIQ ~ Life On The Road As A Musician ~ The Miracle Of Jenny
Vocal performance by TheBugIQ
All photos in written post are CC0
Slideshow Images CC0 & TheBugIQ

Yes I was head of security at Calgary International Airport in 1990
No, I can not disclose whether or not the hotel I describe exists or not

Jenny is neither real nor fictitious.
She has visited me vividly in my dreams as she appears in this story.
She often visits more than three nights in sequence and continues to visit me to this day
We must have lost each other in another time or universe
Be well, my love. We will find each other again soon.

A Word About The Artist Project and Our Patrons Of The Arts

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