So I did it. I got in the car for the final ride to the airport. And as I was riding, I felt like I was going to the gallows. I couldn't believe it. Why was I doing this? Why did I feel, mainly, why did I feel so inflated. I'd been there eight weeks, I'd worked eight days. Was waiting that difficult? I felt all puffed up, but on the way, I felt, my God, I will never see a little piece of heaven like this again. This is the end. And as I was riding, I said a silent benediction, a silent farewell to all that I had had and would miss. Farewell, to the fantastic breakfasts, free every morning. You walked down and there they are waiting on you with the papaya, mango, and pineapple like I'd never tasted before. Farewell, to the Thai maids with the king-sized cotton sheets and the big king-sized beds. Farewell, to the lunches. Fresh meat flown in from America, daily. Roast potatoes, green beans and roast lamb, at 110 degrees under a circus tent, according to British Equity. Farewell to the drivers with the tinted glasses and the Mercedes with the tinted windows. Farewell to the cakes, and teas and ices every day exactly at four o'clock. Farewell to those beautiful smiling people. Farewell to that single, fresh rose in a vase on my bureau in the hotel every day. And just as I was climbing into that first-class seat, and wrapping myself in a blanket, just as I was adjusting the pillow from behind my head, and having a sip of that champagne, and just as I was adjusting and bringing down my Thai purple sleep mask, I had an inkling, I had a flash. I suddenly thought I knew what it was that had killed Marilyn Monroe.
So I did it. I got in the car for the final ride to the airport. And as I was riding, I felt like I was going to the gallows. I couldn't believe it. Why was I doing this? Why did I feel, mainly, why did I feel so inflated. I'd been there eight weeks, I'd worked eight days. Was waiting that difficult? I felt all puffed up, but on the way, I felt, my God, I will never see a little piece of heaven like this again. This is the end. And as I was riding, I said a silent benediction, a silent farewell to all that I had had and would miss. Farewell, to the fantastic breakfasts, free every morning. You walked down and there they are waiting on you with the papaya, mango, and pineapple like I'd never tasted before. Farewell, to the Thai maids with the king-sized cotton sheets and the big king-sized beds. Farewell, to the lunches. Fresh meat flown in from America, daily. Roast potatoes, green beans and roast lamb, at 110 degrees under a circus tent, according to British Equity. Farewell to the drivers with the tinted glasses and the Mercedes with the tinted windows. Farewell to the cakes, and teas and ices every day exactly at four o'clock. Farewell to those beautiful smiling people. Farewell to that single, fresh rose in a vase on my bureau in the hotel every day. And just as I was climbing into that first-class seat, and wrapping myself in a blanket, just as I was adjusting the pillow from behind my head, and having a sip of that champagne, and just as I was adjusting and bringing down my Thai purple sleep mask, I had an inkling, I had a flash. I suddenly thought I knew what it was that had killed Marilyn Monroe.
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