Health And Beauty

‘Are we nearly there yet?’.

The driver ignored my eyes in the rear-view mirror.

‘Oui, nearly there yet, Mr Lewis. Traffic’.

I fell back into the seat. I was already late. The heart rate monitor on my watch bleeped. One hundred and twenty beats per minute. This news only quickened my pulse and my heart thwacked against my ribs. The car lurched a few feet closer to the hotel.

Regulate yourself, Lewis. Gasp, inhale. One, two, three, four. Hold your breath. Count. Whoosh, exhale. Repeat the count.

Millions of water cells condensed on the car windows. Did they have grander aspirations than this? Maybe they dreamed of becoming a beautiful wave crashing against a reef shelf off the coast of a jungle island. But for now, they were stuck here in this car. With me. I prodded the glistening window, sliding a finger around in the sequence necessary to produce the words fuck and off. I was on my way to the highest hotel in the world, which occupied the top floors of a one hundred and sixty-three story building. She was staying in a room on the one hundred and fifty ninth floor. I tried to concentrate again on breathing and forget about being late. I stimulated my vagus nerve by sucking in air using the diaphragm and stomach. My too tight shirt collar pinched my neck. The eczema had returned and the organic cotton material irritated the blisters. The shiny black building was visible on the horizon. She was in there, somewhere. It was impossible to go anywhere in this city without the building peering at you from some point on the compass.

We alighted at the set down area many minutes later. I was now officially very late. I lobbed a fist of wrinkled notes in the drivers’ direction and flung myself from the car like a sprinter leaving his block. I hurtled towards the revolving doors, whose glass panes were so clean that it looked like a giant golden bird cage.

A man in a top hat scurried towards me. Fuck ... off! I growled. The man stopped, confused. I flapped my arms to distract him further before side-stepping into the bowels of the great whirring entrance. The bird cage door quickly spat me out into a cathedral like marble foyer. Importantly dressed people zig zagged across it. Exotic birdsong rang out and the lobby was dotted with giant jungle plants. Their leaves bowed and curtseyed as bodies hurried past. Abused looking bell boys wheeled terrific squeaking luggage trolleys. Bungalow sized suitcases teetered and swayed above them. The boys ignored the obvious peril they were in and stared defiantly at the floor. I stood still and let the chaos wash over me. A singular thought kicked and punched me. Get to the elevator.

I dove into the melee, zipping and dancing through houndstooth, pencil skirt and sports jacket. Shoulders collided. Excuse me, excuse me. I spotted the herd of elevator doors scattered across the back wall of the foyer. There was at least twenty of them, I realised, as the crowd eventually spat me out. Some were rectangular and wide, others low and square. One was even circular. Numbers and symbols swirled above the doors. I scanned them, trying to figure out which one to choose. Some people pushed inside while others were puked out into the lobby. I was lost. She told me she was staying on the one hundred and fifty ninth floor. I spun around, searching for a member of staff. A bell girl appeared, as if on cue. She stared at me. I stared at her. My upper lip twitched. Her red lipstick glistened.

‘Mr Lewis ... hotel?’.

‘What? How do you – hotel! Yes, hotel yes!’ I said.

She smiled, pointing through me. My eyes followed her finger and I turned back towards the elevator walls. A golden door glimmered in a far corner. It was semi cylindrical and narrow. Light ricocheted from its surface. A red neon HOTEL sign shimmered above it. This door was far removed from the other elevators, which continued to ding open and closed. But the hotel elevator door was motionless. I spun on my heels, facing the bell girl again.

‘Is this a joke?’ I can’t possible fit inside that ... thing’. I flailed a hand towards the gun barrel door.

She smiled and turned away, addressing some other lost soul. I looked at my watch. I was now officially extremely bloody late. My attention returned to the elevator. I paced towards it. It was maybe fifteen centimetres wide. Nowhere near as broad as my shoulders. A button buried in the wall next to it was branded in black letters: UP. I pressed the button and it lit up. The door retracted in a manner befitting science fiction. Xylophone music leaked from the interior. I exhaled and turned myself sideways -- at a right angle to the threshold-- before squeezing inside. The space within resembled an oversized cigar holder. The walls were adorned with strips of fantastically varnished mahogany paneling. A ceiling light shone with the brilliance of a thousand dentists’ chairs. The narrow door was still open and the bell girl remained standing in the lobby, although she now seemed very far away. My eyes met hers and she smiled again, making a ‘press the button’ gesture. My gaze returned to the elevator interior. Instead of a panel of sequential numbers, tiny golden buttons protruded from the mahogany panels. Their position seemed random, until I realised they were clustered together to represent a map of the world. I tried to find number one hundred and fifty nine, but I couldn’t locate it. As I continued scanning the buttons, I slowly realised that there was no display panel to show what floor we were currently on.

‘Wait there, ho! Stop!’ a deep voice cried out in some far reach of the foyer. I looked out of the open door and saw a middle-aged business man waddling briskly in my direction. As his velocity increased, I could make out the vertical lines of an expensive pin stripe suit. The stripes bent and distorted around a huge, bouncing midriff. He gripped a briefcase in one pink hand, while the other was outstretched towards me. ‘You there! Wait!’ he said.

But there’s no room, I thought. We can’t both possibly fit in here. Panic climbed through my throat as I watched him approach. My shirt collar suddenly felt like an anaconda and my jugular pressed against it. The man’s walrus like dimensions became more pronounced as he thundered closer. He had a white moustache, which sat below feline eyes and an ignorantly slack mouth.

‘There’s ... no room! You’ll have to wait for the next one’.

‘Nonsense, boy’ he said, his neck fat wobbling. ‘I’m already late for my meeting’.

I looked at the panel of buttons, scanning them in terror. Seven. Forty- six. Eighty-Eight. No, no, no! One hundred and fifty-nine, where was it?

My eyes landed on button one hundred and thirty-two. Close enough, I thought. My shoulders pressed against the walls and I had to angle them forwards -- like a boxer defending body shots -- in order to reach the buttons. Mr Walrus was now so close I could make out his steam engine breath. My finger quickly jabbed button one hundred and thirty-two. I pressed my eyes shut, waiting for the door to close.

Nothing happened. The door stayed open and I remained in the lobby. The man was within touching distance now. ‘We’ll fit.’ He was shouting now.

‘No, I really don’t think--’

‘We’ll fit!’ he said, pirouetting with surprising dexterity and slamming himself into the narrow mouth of the elevator. The door made that clacking sound it does when it meets human resistance. The man’s shouting turned into a low hiss as he strained against the opening.

‘We’ll ... fffit’. Now halfway through, he grunted as his distended parts snagged on the metal perimeter. Clack clack clack went the door.

He was almost through, I thought.

The clacking stopped and I was suddenly pushed against the part of the wall that held the buttons. The man’s flab enveloped my back and legs and his giant, heaving stomach pressed against my kidneys. I felt humid breath on my scalp.

A shiver ran up my back as his impossibly close voice filled my ear drums. ‘I told you we would fit’. I could feel whiskers on my neck.

I remained silent. My watch bleeped.

He continued. ‘Now then, if you’d kindly press floor one hundred and fifty on my behalf, that’s where my meeting is sch-’. He was cut off by the sound of the elevator door snapping shut. I glanced to my right and saw that the lobby beyond had disappeared, replaced by the mahogany door interior.

It was quiet now in the cabin, except for the man’s breathing. My face and body pressed against the mahogany and I wondered how much oxygen was in here. I looked down towards my feet. Horrified, I realised that his incursion had involuntarily pressed parts of me into some of the buttons, which now glowed serenely. One illuminated button stood out from the others because its surface bore a mixture of letters and numbers. I peered at it, my eyes narrow. I could make out an ‘O’ at the beginning, and a ‘3’ at the end. I squinted even harder and the words eventually swam into focus. ‘Override. Viewing Deck Express: 163’. I’m going to vomit, I thought.

A bell dinged somewhere and nausea was replaced by a nostalgic fluttering in my stomach as the elevator took off. It reminded me of being a child and my father throwing me into the sky above his head, far above his outstretched arms. My watch’s heart rate monitor beeped again. Elevated would be an understatement, I thought. The walrus pressed his weight harder into my back. I had to say something.

‘Sir, can you move back, please?’. The man didn’t respond.

‘Sir, can you move back, you’re really quite close’. I was whispering.

Silence. Then his voice, so close it felt like it was coming from inside my skull.

‘You’re a healthy one, aren’t you Lewis?’.

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘I said: you’re a healthy one. Look after yourself, don’t you boy?’

‘What is this?’.

A hot wetness suddenly poured into my ear, filling it. Disbelief flooded through me as my brain sped through possible causes. Bristles tickled the side of my face. The wetness started to move and swirl. I realised it was the man’s tongue.

‘Beautiful’.

He began to nibble on my ear lobe, purring like a cat. The elevator climbed skywards.