What happens when you win an award

We chose the little airport to fly to Ottawa.
White-headed ducks scooting away from the one minute
ferry. We land in fifty-eight minutes. We skate
on the dark Rideau, share a hot chocolate that
is from a machine that reminds us of childhood.
My shins are burning from the effort. We have
a king size bed. Now that's a lot of bed. Though
a square bed isnt as appealing as a rectangular
bed, visually. I dont know if I could live
with a square bed. Perhaps you can get a king
with an extra foot of length. A tall king.
The pool. It is tiled and words like STEPS
are spelled out in tile masaic. Copper lamps
above deck chairs. This is the Chateau Laurier,
which I refuse to call the Fairmont. Fairmont
has bought the Savoy in London. But you dont
see them shoving the word "Fairmont" in from
of Savoy. The dry sauna is hot wood, how much
scent can something contain? The scent of hot
wood. A meal at Sweetgrass. I have tatonka, a
slice of buffalo. Marvelous. The entire meal
is simple and well-prepared and tasty and fresh.
And there is no music. Just the healthy talk
of men and three women. This is all right, isnt
it. Yes it's pretty good. Oliver Jones plays
Oscar Peterson's Hymn to Freedom. He has juicy
fingers and his piano seat is upholstered leather.
And then several martinis in big heavy glasses.
A friend takes us to a studio where a man is
painting. He is painting buildings sitting on
an acre of dark land that is on fire at
the horizon. We drink wine our man has brought
with him. I am falling asleep with these
buildings pounding into my head. They are
beautiful, strong buildings full of yellow
windows.
This morning room service. Poached eggs and
tea. When youre hungover it's tea. The table
arrives, a point of it touching the king
size bed. It's all in the hot box.
What else. One last tour of Parliament.
Theyve added a party of women drinking
tea to the snow garden. There are stray wild
cats sitting on the throat of a man
as he eats lunch on a bench.