Ray Ipsow regarded the surface of his beer.
* * * * * * * * * *
This is a sign that a working class person is about to do some real thinking! Personally, I can't have a profound thought unless I'm giggling happily at the Yogi Bear image stamped dozens of times on the perforated piece of paper I'm holding in front of me.
I don't know what class that makes me. Remedial?
Somewhere a small string orchestra was playing an arrangement of "Old Zip Coon."
* * * * * * * * * *
It might not come as a surprise to you because the name of the song is "Old Zip Coon" but it's pretty racist. Obviously the music part isn't racist so being played by a string orchestra would probably make a time traveler think, "Oh, they're playing 'Turkey in the Straw'!" And I don't think that song was racist. Although it was an old song that I haven't heard since elementary school in the 70s so that doesn't bode well for the whole "not racist" angle. And now that I've looked at the lyrics, I suspect it was written racist and then somebody thought, "You know what? This song isn't racist enough for me!" And then they wrote "Old Zip Coon." Also looking at more "Turkey in the Straw" facts, I discovered it was a popular song to play in blackface at Minstrel Shows in the time of this story. No wonder Barney and The Wiggles and every kids' entertainer who somehow couldn't give up the song had to completely change the lyrics.
"Old Zip Coon" has many stanzas and goes on for only about five minutes but it sounds like it goes on forever. The version I listened to was on YouTube and had the comments turned off explicitly because they knew exactly the kinds of comments it would have garnered on YouTube. Although it sounds like, in their reasoning for turning off the comments, they didn't have the foresight to initially turn off comments and they were surprised by the general masses. Maybe they were surprised so many people were commenting, "Ugh. This is racist garbage. Why does it exist?" And they were tired of saying, "Historical things are often racist but we have to keep hearing them over and over or else you're erasing history!" And then the commenters were probably all, "Maybe if you had an old wax tube recording but this guy re-recorded this shit for some reason. That seems odd, doesn't it?" And then the YouTube channel was probably all, "Barney the Dinosaur recorded it too!" And then everybody had to Google Barney's version of "Old Zip Coon" which was actually "Turkey in the Straw" and then they came back to say, "Okay but he really changed the lyrics and, by the way, 'Turkey in the Straw' wasn't great but somebody thought they needed to racist up that racist shit?" but by then the comments were turned off.
Couples in boutonnières and ostrich-plume hats paraded self-composedly among the dwarf palms or paused by the Italian Fountain as if thinking about jumping in.
* * * * * * * * * *
The dwarf palms I can picture because that's a fancy hotel cliché. But the Italian Fountain? In the middle of the bar? I can guess that's why they call it the Pump Room because they have water pumping in to fill the fountain. But what makes the fountain Italian over Spanish or German or Welsh? I bet it's the added syrup, right?
"as if thinking about jumping in"
Whenever I see people pause by a fountain, I never think, "Oh, I wonder if they're about to jump in." I think the omniscient narrator might be depressed and his mood is infiltrating his descriptions.
"paraded self-composedly"
They're there to be seen. Don't expect them to enjoy themselves. Oh! Maybe that's why they're contemplating jumping in the fountain!
Down in the elegant Pump Room, Ray ran into Merle Rideout and Chevrolette McAdoo, who were "out on the town," owing to a fortunate wager Merle had made earlier that day.
* * * * * * * * * *
In this bit, we see Ray move downward, both physically and socially, in the hotel. He has left the penthouse where the rich and entitled meet and moved about as far down as possible on every scale, metaphorical and physical, to arrive at the "Pump Room" with burlesque dancer Chevrolette and cuckolded raunchy Merle. Sure, the Pump Room might be elegant but if it lets in riff-raff like this, how exclusive a location can it actually be?
"a fortunate wager"
Gambling, of course, is practically the only way for a lower class American to garner enough wealth to even have a taste of a higher class life. It's the only economic movement realistically available to them because those running gambling rings understand the odds and they understand the habits of people desperate for better circumstances. So a few win while most lose. So what? They'll just blow it on some luxury to make their terribly hard lives somewhat better for a brief moment and then it'll be back to gambling. They have no recourse to making money through investment because all of the games are rigged to make more money for those who already have enough money and have gained power through their money. Better to have a nice night out than to have your money stolen by rich solicitors and financiers pretending to care about your investments.
Also, I wonder what the fortunate wager was?! Maybe we'll find out in a "Merle Section."
"It's all right, I'll be down at the bar," as he went through the door, adding, "praying for wisdom."
* * * * * * * * * *
The bar is my altar; the bartender priest.
The drinks my communion; self-loathing, my mass.
The rickety stool serves as singular pew.
The padded edge of the bar my head's kneeler.
The choir are patrons; their hymns pick-up lines.
Then later the john, a confessional stall,
Where the wisdom comes in waves.
