There were some haters. A certain, fair-haired CP staffer called me a failure. Another CP’er who really needs a shave said he was disappointed. It’s because they didn’t believe. They didn’t believe in the skinny kid from the west coast. They were wrong.

Thanks to six anarchist roommates I had 4 years ago in San Francisco, my ability to sneak, steal and be sly is…well…better than average at least.

I thought I had an engagement with some pharmaceutical company at the Hotel Palomar at 12:30. Unfortunately, due to some unfortunate circumstances that are still under investigation, the pharm. company conference was not there. What to do? I escaped the heat and went back to the office for 10 minutes but everyone was being rude and wouldn’t leave me alone. Maybe it was their indigestion…I dunno. 

Nevertheless, I hit the streets again and headed for Embassy Suites. I arrived and saw a projection on wall in the lobby that said these words:

WE WELCOME ALPHA KAPPA ALPHA TO THEIR CENTENNIAL BOULÉ!

I looked around and found what I wanted: a sign explaining where to go for this so called, “boulé.” I put my shades on my head and swaggered downstairs to meet the fine individuals of Alpha Kappa Alpha. Sure, its a sorority organization made up of minorities across the United States. That doesn't mean a silly white male like me could'nt get some free grub right?

Upon entry it looked as thought lunch had already been served. None of the rooms had food but only individuals around my age sitting at round tables discussing god-knows-what feverishly.

What to do? What to do? What to do? 

I went to the bathroom to regroup. Inside a hotel worker was wiping down a counter. I slid up next to him and asked,

“Excuse me sir. Are you working this conference? I had to step out for a phone call and I have seemed to miss lunch.” 

He directed me to the maitre d’ where I repeated what I had said.

“It was served at 11:30!” she said confused. It was 1:00 at the time. I needed a quick excuse. 

“Yeah, my boss called and then put me through to a conference call that he couldn’t make. I was sitting outside, with a notepad in my hand, listening in. Crazy I know!”

“Well, let us see if we have any more food.” She declared seemingly pleased with my response. 

The maitre d’ led me to the kitchen where the remains of the food that had been served at the conference sat. There were still loads of food. She handed me a plate and said, “Bon Appétit!”

I grabbed a roast beef sandwich, potato salad, a noodle salad, a coke, a bag of chips and some cherry tomatoes with mozzarella balls to top. I left the kitchen and found a seat in one of the ballrooms which was occupied by a series of people sitting at a round table.  After about 10 minutes an older gentlemen walked  in and was going to each table asking everyone what they had been working on. I started eating faster. Pulling out my phone, I left the ballroom frequently pretending like I had to make a call. Eventually, I was able to finish my meal sufficiently stuffed. As I quickly headed to the elevator, the maitre d’ stood outside the kitchen. I stopped and asked,  

“Where was this food all from?”

“From the restaurant upstairs…Finn and Porter sir.” 

Before exiting the Embassy, I checked the prices on the menu of Finn and Porter. Not an item under 10 dollars.

Cocktail party to ensue....lets see how it goes...