1. At the opening of WINE INTO WATER...
Stephen Grant decided to savor the moment.
He sipped the aromatic, earthy white Hermitage wine. Bottled 15 years earlier, it came from grapes grown on slopes above the French town of Tain on the banks of the Rhône River.
While swallowing, Grant took in his surroundings from the rooftop of the Loews Hotel in Monte Carlo.
He looked down at the Formula One cars fighting an unnatural restraint in order to make hairpin turns. As was always the case when observing excellence, Grant admired the drivers’ skills, as well as the expertise of those who built and maintained these machines. His ears recognized the vast difference between these engines versus other so- called high-performance cars, not only in terms of power, but also the precision and responsiveness needed to compete in the Monaco Grand Prix.
He then turned to look out at the yachts anchored in the harbor and beyond in the Mediterranean’s azure waters. The Principality of Monaco might be tiny, about the size of New York’s Central Park, Grant reflected, but what it lacked in space, it more than made up for in terms of wealth.
The weather was near perfect, with clear cerulean skies and bright sun. After all, this was May in Monaco. Grant chuckled to himself, wondering if the residents and their guests would allow for anything less. Looking out at the crowds populating the grandstands that were wedged in along the hillside road course, he didn’t doubt estimates that the city’s well-heeled population of 30,000 jumped by six or seven times during race weekend.
2. From THE RIVER...
Stephen strolled along the sidewalk, with trees on his left running close to Las Vegas Boulevard South and the Fountains of Bellagio on his right.
The music started, and the fountains came to life.
He spotted Jennifer leaning on a column. The lights and water engulfed her attention.
Stephen quietly approached, catching a glimpse of the water and lights reflected in her brown eyes. He slipped his arms around her waist. “Hello, Dr. Grant.”
She clasped her hands behind his neck. “Good evening. Pastor Grant, isn’t it? Imagine meeting you here.”
They kissed, a little more deeply and longer than they would have on the sidewalk of almost any other road in the country.
Jennifer turned back to the fountains, resting the back of her head on Stephen just below his chin. His hands moved around and met at her stomach.
She sighed. “When you think about a casino in the middle of the desert with a manmade lake and a regular fountain show, it seems silly. But when you’re standing here, it really is mesmerizing.”
“I agree.”
They listened to Frank Sinatra belt out “Fly Me to the Moon” over the many speakers surrounding the waters.
Stephen added, “Apparently there’s no getting away from Sinatra on this trip.”
Jennifer shrugged. “Hey, it’s Las Vegas. This still is Frank’s town, right?”
“I think it was Dean Martin who said that it’s Frank’s world, we just get to live in it.”
As Sinatra was concluding, “I love ... you,” the fountain waters shot high in the air, and then fell back as the music and lights came to an end.
Jennifer turned and took Stephen’s hand. They started walking slowly on the sidewalk, with the many other lights of the Strip darting and leaping.
3. From REAGAN COUNTRY...
Each couple walked hand-in-hand along the Ocean Front Walk that ran between assorted buildings and the sand. Given his Ohio upbringing and the dunes of Long Island, Stephen was often struck by how flat and wide the beach was in Santa Monica.
As they strolled by Hotel Casa del Mar, an oceanfront hotel built in the 1920s and guarded by palm trees, Jennifer whispered to Stephen, “I love that place. I’ve stayed there when out here to meet with Joe.”
“I know. Tough assignment.”
Jennifer poked him, and said, “Next time we come, let’s stay there.”
“Twist my arm.”
They eventually approached a sign noting “The Original Location of MUSCLE BEACH.” It claimed to be “THE BIRTHPLACE OF THE PHYSICAL FITNESS BOOM OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY.” Stephen pulled out his iPhone and snapped a picture.
Joan and George looked at him quizzically.
Stephen said, “I’m going to text it to a friend that I used to work with at the CIA. His nickname is ‘Tank,’ and for good reason. Ever since I worked with him many years ago, he has maintained a Schwarzenegger-like physique.”
Stephen sent his text, and the group resumed walking. They climbed a set of stairs leading up to the Santa Monica Pier, and proceeded to do the tourist thing, stopping at various kiosks, sticking their heads into small shops, and taking a ride on the Pacific Park Ferris Wheel. Then came hearty Pier Burgers with cheese – doubles for both Stephen and George – one large order of fries, and shakes all around. The cups announced that Pier Burger was the “Last Burger on Land,” since the Santa Monica Pier marked the end of the old Route 66.
4. From SHIFTING SANDS...
Stephen and Jennifer had an early check in at The Ian- Soho Hotel. The 5-star Ian was a unique 21-story, 206-room building that generated descriptions among guests like bright, clean, and modern. Their room offered custom-made furniture, more space than typical Manhattan hotels, and expansive windows offering arresting views of the Hudson River.
Jennifer remarked, “Well, staying here for three nights certainly beats riding back and forth on the Long Island Railroad or the L.I.E. each day.”
Stephen moved next to her, closed his green eyes, breathed in deeply, and then looked out at part of the city, the river, and New Jersey on the other side of the water. “Agreed.”
Jennifer said, “We can enjoy this more later. We’ve already missed at least a couple of today’s matches. Shall we head over to the tournament?”
“Sounds good.”
The couple made sure they had what was needed for a day of watching beach volleyball, including the lanyards housing V.I.P. tickets supplied by Maggie Stone. Tom and Maggie, along with some of the volleyball players, including Melissa Ambler, were also staying at The Ian. With Maggie having a room, Tom already had journeyed over to Pier 26, where the two-court beach volleyball stadium had been set up.
No comments:
Post a Comment