Last night, while waiting on the queue to get into Club 400 at the Fairmont, a man standing next to me asked, “How much?”
“How much what?” I asked back, thinking he was inquiring about the cover charge for the club.
“How much?” he asked again and pointed at me.
It was at that point that it dawned on me what he was talking about. I think my face turned all red as I turned to my husband who was oblivious to the whole exchange so I said to him, “This guy just asked me how much.” Scotch looked at the guy and told him, “This is my wife.”
The guy just gave Scotch a dopey smile and walked away.
I couldn’t believe it. He must have been really drunk as he wasn’t being discrete at all. Each time he repeated “How much,” pretty much everyone on line in front of and behind us heard him. The nerve of some people.
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