Portal 23

Chairs, La Mamounia Hotel, Marakesh, 1971, David Hockney

There didn’t seem to be anything especially special about the chairs. They looked comfortable enough. And after a bit of research, I assumed it was possible some famous people had sat upon them. Winston Churchill or Kirk Douglas, for examples. But the chairs in the David Hockney painting were unoccupied. I mulled the significance of that. The day looked bright; the hotel, noted as one of the best in the world, could have been unoccupied. So it was an ideal time for me to portal there. Though what I’d do other than seat myself on one of those chairs, I hadn’t a clue.

It turned out the hotel was not at all unoccupied. Guests and service personnel abounded. I was worried briefly that my nakedness could be offensive; the place had a Muslim history; but no one seemed bothered or concerned. One fellow took me for a wait person, muttered something about how it was nice to see a female body, and spouted a drink order. Three others in the group, including two well-dressed women, added their orders. After a time I was able to locate the bar, and the barperson somehow knew what was needed. With a wink and a raised eyebrow, he nodded to a tray upon which sat four drinks, matching, I supposed, those ordered. I was so tempted to take a sip of each, but good girl that I am, I refrained.