第24章
《THE CATCHER IN THE RYE(麦田里的守望者英文版)》章节:第24章,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
I gave you
the wrong address. I want to go back downtown."
The driver was sort of a wise guy. "I can't turn around here, Mac. This here's a
one-way. I'll have to go all the way to Ninedieth Street now."
I didn't want to start an argument. "Okay," I said. Then I thought of something, all
of a sudden. "Hey, listen," I said. "You know those ducks in that lagoon right near
Central Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they
go, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?" I
realized it was only one chance in a million.
He turned around and looked at me like I was a madman. "What're ya tryna do,
bud?" he said. "Kid me?"
"No--I was just interested, that's all."
He didn't say anything more, so I didn't either. Until we came out of the park at
Ninetieth Street. Then he said, "All right, buddy. Where to?"
"Well, the thing is, I don't want to stay at any hotels on the East Side where I
might run into some acquaintances of mine. I'm traveling incognito," I said. I hate saying
corny things like "traveling incognito." But when I'm with somebody that's corny, I
always act corny too. "Do you happen to know whose band's at the Taft or the New
Yorker, by any chance?"
"No idear, Mac."
"Well--take me to the Edmont then," I said. "Would you care to stop on the way
and join me for a cocktail? On me. I'm loaded."
"Can't do it, Mac. Sorry." He certainly was good company. Terrific personality.
We got to the Edmont Hotel, and I checked in. I'd put on my red hunting cap
when I was in the cab, just for the hell of it, but I took it off before I checked in. I didn't
want to look like a screwball or something. Which is really ironic. I didn't know then that
the goddam hotel was full of perverts and morons. Screwballs all over the place.
They gave me this very crumby room, with nothing to look out of the window at
except the other side of the hotel. I didn't care much. I was too depressed to care whether
I had a good view or not. The bellboy that showed me to the room was this very old guy
around sixty-five. He was even more depressing than the room was. He was one of those
bald guys that comb all their hair over from the side to cover up the baldness. I'd rather be
bald than do that. Anyway, what a gorgeous job for a guy around sixty-five years old.
Carrying people's suitcases and waiting around for a tip. I suppose he wasn't too
intelligent or anything, but it was terrible anyway.
After he left, I looked out the window for a while, with my coat on and all. I didn't
have anything else to do. You'd be surprised what was going on on the other side of the
hotel. They didn't even bother to pull their shades down. I saw one guy, a gray-haired,
very distinguished-looking guy with only his shorts on, do something you wouldn't
believe me if I told you. First he put his suitcase on the bed. Then he took out all these
women's clothes, and put them on. Real women's clothes--silk stockings, high-heeled
shoes, brassiere, and one of those corsets with the straps hanging down and all. Then he
put on this very tight black evening dress. I swear to God. Then he started walking up and
down the room, taking these very small steps, the way a woman does, and smoking a
cigarette and looking at himself in the mirror. He was all alone, too. Unless somebody
was in the bathroom--I couldn't see that much. Then, in the window almost right over his,
I saw a man and a woman squirting water out of their mouths at each other. It probably
was highballs, not water, but I couldn't see what they had in their glasses. Anyway, first
he'd take a swallow and squirt it all over her, then she did it to him--they took turns, for
God's sake. You should've seen them. They were in hysterics the whole time, like it was
the funniest thing that ever happened. I'm not kidding, the hotel was lousy with perverts. I
was probably the only normal bastard in the whole place--and that isn't saying much. I
damn near sent a telegram to old Stradlater telling him to take the first train to New York.
He'd have been the king of the hotel.
The trouble was, that kind of junk is sort of fascinating to watch, even if you don't
want it to be. For instance, that girl that was getting water squirted all over her face, she
was pretty good-looking. I mean that's my big trouble. In my mind, I'm probably the
biggest sex maniac you ever saw. Sometimes I can think of very crumby stuff I wouldn't
mind doing if the opportunity came up. I can even see how it might be quite a lot of fun,
in a crumby way, and if you were both sort of drunk and all, to get a girl and squirt water
or something all over each other's face. The thing is, though, I don't like the idea. It
stinks, if you analyze it. I think if you don't really like a girl, you shouldn't horse around
with her at all, and if you do like her, then you're supposed to like her face, and if you
like her face, you ought to be careful about doing crumby stuff to it, like squirting water
all over it. It's really too bad that so much crumby stuff is a lot of fun sometimes. Girls
aren't too much help, either, when you start trying not to get too crumby, when you start
trying not to spoil anything really good. I knew this one girl, a couple of years ago, that
was even crumbier than I was. Boy, was she crumby!