Madonna at 53 has released a new album, MDNA which is remarkable how she has also taken some sorrow and will turn it into platinum. Regardless of her motivation, she speaks for everyone with a voluminous unedited voice which, like it or not, she inspires by being a voice for those who benefit from her unabashed reality art. Twenty one years ago my best friend Shane stood beside me at my wedding and there is a photo of him walking with Tara across the grounds, ever so graceful; her in her Priscilla of Boston gentle blush wedding gown and he in his custom fitted black tuxedo, effortlessly carrying her train crossing the pristine greens of the golf course never once pausing in their conversation. I met him when Madonna was somewhere between Borderline and Blond Ambition voguing through The Ritz-Carlton, Boston. I just watched http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pvT6-U4SZP8Capote, the 2005 film that takes us through his torturous writing journey of In Cold Blood and when Shane was still alive, many thought he resembled Truman Capote in looks, stature and mild eccentricity and all of this illuminated wonderful bright memories of Shane. He is a lot more Breakfast at Tiffany's rather than In Cold Blood. Complete with his clear plastic eyeglass frames nearly an exact replica of Capote's frames.
I started working at The Ritz-Carlton, Boston on April 6, 1989. I walked by it a few times, imagined its luxurious history and wondered what it took to be a part of it. One winter night, I got all dressed up to the nines. Polished black wing-tip shoes, navy pin stripped suit with a crisp white shirt and red paisley tie; my navy cashmere coat and silk scarf. I walked into the lobby like I owned it. The sweet smell of white Lily's took over, the opulence of gold leaf on the ceiling, the fine tapestries, elegantly dressed men and ladies in sequins and heels sipping champagne and cordials in the smokey bar, the line spilling into the lobby for the Cafe. Music from all rooms gently tapping on the Chippendale furnishings and aromatics of fine French parfums glistening from the ladies slender, graceful wrists. I boldly walked up to the very busy maitre d' in the cafe and asked if they were hiring. He graciously told me that personnel is closed right now and I would need to return during business hours Monday through Friday. As he hefted a pile of full length sables and minks to the coat room across the hall, I introduced myself and let him know he would see me next week. I didn't want to miss the opportunity to be remembered.
I was marrying someone outside of my class and I knew it. I come from moderate means and personally worked my way through school with two full time jobs each summer and full time work through the school year. My bride to be went to school in London for a semester and parents paid for her undergraduate and at this time, her graduate education. She nor her loving family ever made me feel anything but exactly what I was - a loved part of the family. But I knew I wanted to contribute in some big way and that what led me to take a day off from my full time job with Blue Cross and Blue Shield and dedicate time to find a part time position to put together money for the wedding and honeymoon.
As instructed, I walked to the hotel and found the personnel office. While on Newbury Street, I had 'Puttin' on The Ritz' playing at full volume in my head with a little kick in my step. I saw a pigeon, and I am not a big fan of pigeons, waltzing across the pristine sidewalk who had a similar kick in their step, as if he in his multi-colored iridescent feathers, he was sporting black tails, white diamond weave tuxedo shirt and a little cane tucked under one wing and in a slight move bending to one side, a silk top hat tipped in his other wing.
The personnel office had the old steel desks, filing cabinets, threadbare carpet outlining the traffic patterns and a pleasant, sterile scent topped off with a commingling of colognes. A slight woman with a wide smile and sincerely warm demeanor greeted me with a 'Good Morning, how may assist you?' and I asked if there was any part time positions available. She let me know they do not hire part time people and offered an application anyways. I filled it out and handed it to her and she asked if I had a resume and I gave it to her. We had a casual conversation and she thanked me for coming, stood up, shook my hand, letting me know her name was Lori and someone would be contacting me sometime this week. Years later, when I ended up in the 'personnel' office, later to be referred to as human resources, I read on the old paper application that she had written, 'Nice Smile, Very Friendly, we need to find something for him.' Later that week, Susan called me and I became a part time server in The Tea Lounge on the second floor across from The Dining Room. The Tea Lounge was officially titled The Lounge, everyone called it the tea lounge. And in both cases, the names were nothing that would catch an ordinary person's intrigue, the elegant lettering at the foot of the grand staircase of each entrance  led you to believe in its naming simplicity awaits a lifetime of dreams.
I met Conrad as my trainer. Flamboyant, fast moving, pale complected arrogant young man who made every attempt to make me and those around him feel small. He buzzed around, showing me where things were, cleaning up from the tea service and transporting the day set to the evening set and speaking so awkwardly proper it made me feel anxious for him, not for me, and perspiring at the same pace and harried manner in his inability to prioritize and stick to task. Picking up my new responsibilities was likened to calculating the wave pattern of an approaching hurricane at high tide. Thursday night was Tea Dance from 5:30pm - 8:30pm and this is the night I trained with him. We dress the cabaret tables in the adjoining French and Adam room in pristine white linen, soft pink glass candle holders, dust them with rose petals and randomly place Ritz-Carlton dance cards at each setting. Then the sign, The Tea Dance ensconced in an ornate gold frame and an original tea menu cover titled, 'le thé' with a beautiful woman in a full length floral dress sitting in the garden, was placed on a brass easel in The Lounge at the entrance of The French Room to welcome guests. Soon, Al Vega and his band mates assembled at the end of the room at the dance floor and were ready to play waltzes, rhumbas and whatever made the ladies twirl and men swoon while they sipped thier libations and washed away the day.