Zen As Applied To The Long Weekend

We went to Katoomba which is a swanky little mountain town filled with backpackers and boutiques and 427 coffee shops. We stayed in an old and semi-posh hotel where we took our breakfasts in the dining room like civilized people. On the second night I discovered a nook at the end of the hall from our second floor room. A door led out to a small balcony on which was a small metal table and a metal chair and a clean ashtray. The balcony overlooked the main street with a view of the backpacker's hostel across the street and the police station next to it, with a bakery on the other side. This, I thought, is much more convenient than going downstairs to smoke.

I carried with me at the time a small vitamin bottle in which I kept a small pipe and a small quantity of marijuana. As night fell I sat against the wall sipping espresso, smoking and watching - and reading The Art of War, which I had picked up in a second hand bookstore that afternoon. I was reading the section dealing with concealing your form. There was a cold wind.

At one point I heard the door behind me open. Two people, a man and woman each dressed in soft clothes, peered out. As I slipped the pipe into my pocket, I turned and said "Hello!" with an overly cheerful grin. They looked at my book, at my cigarette, at me and smiled shyly, saying "we wondered where this door went".

"It is a smoking area." I said happily.

"It is a smoking area." they repeated, somehow reassured. They left with the expressions of people who have seen a small wonder, like a really good card trick, or a dog with only two legs that gets around on a little skateboard.

I bet if you asked them, they would not be able to describe me. For even though I was in plain sight I didn't let them see me. I concealed my form.

Then again, maybe they just didn’t give a fuck.