In town for a black-tie wedding at the Plaza, my wife and I spent a leisurely afternoon enjoying an unseasonably warm December day.
When we got back to our room at a nearby hotel, I discovered that I had left my tuxedo shirt at home. I called down to the concierge and explained my situation.
“Hmm,” she said. “Well, you can run out and buy a shirt.”
“But the wedding is in a half-hour,” I replied.
“Sorry, sir,” she said. “I hope you make it. Good luck.”
Running downstairs in search of a store, I passed through the lobby’s revolving doors and noticed that the bellmen were wearing white shirts.
I went back in.
“Excuse me,” I said to one who looked about my size. His name was Paul. “I’ve got a wedding in 25 minutes and no shirt. Can you help?”
He hesitated.
“What size are you?” he asked.
“Sixteen neck, 32 sleeve,” I said.
He disappeared through a side door and came out minutes later holding a freshly laundered white shirt, on a hanger no less.
I could have kissed him. Instead, I thanked him profusely and handed him $50.
After a late checkout the next morning, I found Paul to return the shirt and get my checked bags.
He asked about the wedding, and I joked that we had looked great together. He began to walk away and then turned back.
“Thanks for showing my shirt a good time last night,” he said.
著者にとっては、格式ばった結婚式の想い出よりも、このタキシードのシャツの想い出のほうが強く心に残ったのではないかと思います。 ベルボーイが振り返って言った最後のひとこと、“Thanks for showing my shirt a good time last night,”は、なかなか言える言葉ではありません。何気なくこういうひとことが言えるセンスがまたニューヨークなのかな。
ムラゴン ホーム
