12/26/99

#19

ESCAPISM: AN ART

Cars put me to sleep.

I drive slowly around, the anger, and with it the earlier speed, has subsided to a dull ache in me. Hurt is now blossoming, but hurt equals slowness.

When I was little I used to go out for long walks when I was upset, but since my car I've gone out for long drives. Worse for the environment. Shh, don’t tell Kim.

What is going on in my life? Seventeen year-olds should not have these problems.

I'm 17. I'm beautiful. I’m smart. I have a billion gadzillion dollars at my disposal. I live alone. I'm good at everything I try. Why the hell am I not happy?!? And yet Kris is… The bitchy hoe who lacks everything I have.

I reach for my car phone to call up Kris, but my $3000 Tag watch tells me that it's 2:13 AM. She's probably getting laid. She'd never forgive me for interrupting that.

Frustrated, I twist the key savagely and slam on the gas so that my BMW goes leaping out onto the highway.

My eyes rest on my car phone sitting in its holder by my right knee. I can call anywhere in the world in seconds. Where do I want to call? Where can I call?

"Welcome to Dulles International Airport in DC. If you know your party's extension please type it in at any point during this message. If you'd like to check on an arrival, press 1. If you'd like to you'd like to check on a departure, press 2. If…"

Many buttons later I find what I want. A plane leaves for Denver, CO with a connecting flight to Vail at 5:15 AM. The concord leaves for Paris, France at 6:30 AM. Now my only decision is which one to take. My parents have a house in one and an apartment in the other. School is over and I have fucking no one to answer to. I won't be missed. I could disappear and no one would no the difference…

It's 2:27. I could be at the airport in 45 minutes. 3:15. No luggage. Plenty of time to make either flight. There's not a hell of a lot of skiing in June in Vail. Paris it is.

Unless I want to ski. If I flew to Argentina they'd have great skiing since the seasons are opposite.

Ski v. Apartment.

The debate of the century.

I like chocolate eclaires and petit pain de chocolat.

Back to Paris.

I dial the internet phone line in my house and wait for the answering machine to come on. Jane, the maid who comes daily, always checks for messages I leave her on this machine. She can take care of everything while I'm gone.

Beeeeeep.

"Hey Jane dear, it's Dana. I'm going to Paris for a few days; I'm not sure when I'll be back. If you need me I'll be staying in the apartment we have there. The number should be in the address book. Listen, Kim may be stopping by at some point. Tell her where I am and have her call me, k? I'll call Todd and Kris when I get there. If Matt calls tell him the following message word for word. Here goes. 'I'm sorry Matt, I'm busy living my princess life. Fuck off lowly servant. Au revoir.' That's it, Jane. Thanks!"

I hang up quietly, pondering if Matt will call, and if he does what he'll think of my little welcoming message. When he finally understands the 'au revoir' part he'll just about be going insane. Serves the jerk right.

In a handful of hours I'll be sitting in a boat on the Seine, drifting through the heart of Paris. In a country where people don't know me I'll be an exotic beauty with no strings attached. And no Matt to screw with my mind.

I wonder if Kris would like to come?