I've noticed that one of my fellow campers has been uhhhhhhh......stumping?...fencing?....posting? about Gordon's camp in Chimonee a couple of weeks back and I wanted to make sure everyone out there in Tetonland got an accurate accounting of all the goings on. With that as background I'd like to start my own rope or string/thread thing.
I flew into Geneva from New York. I remember it being a long flight - about four bottles of chablis in duration. When I arrived my manservant for the day, Phillipe, greeted me at the airport and immediately whisked me away to the nearest store so that I could acquire two more bottles of vino for the road trip to Shamonit. I remember the trip being dark - I think.
When we arrived at the Morgan Hotel, I immediately noticed the following establishment across the way:
After checking in, and noting with disgust the complete absense of an honor bar in my room, I met up with Gordon, and a tall man who said he was American yet lived in Prog, and another guy with a bad goatee and little fashion sense. After talking for a few moments I suggested that we go for drinks.....er dinner. After dinner I had the decided urge to "get my groove on" so I used my persuasive skills to lure my new found associates to the club across the street from the hotel.
Once inside I was immediately moved by the infectious beat of French disco music and writhing bodies. It was all I could do to hold back from launching out to the dance floor long enough to order a couple of drinks and drink them down with purpose. Fully invigorated I could wait no longer and I lept onto the dance floor.
Two ladies, sensing my prowess, overcame their initial awe and approached me.
My magnetism proved equal to that of the mad disco beat and we conspired together to bring about an orgiastic cavorting explosion of lithe young bodies, with me as its nexus.
After much cajoling from my campmates, I agree to return to the hotel and bid my partners in promenade adoo. Will I return? Does mixing red wine with white wine make Blush?
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