Dear Sui:
Here is my ashtray confession: The year was maybe 1982, the bar was in the Madison Hotel in Washington, DC. I was pretty young at the time, and being from a smaller town I was impressed by its dark wood furniture and heavy red fabrics, along with the fact that Frank Sinatra used to hang out there. I worked as a secretary in the building next door, and sometimes a salesman or two from my company would meet me and another secretary for drinks. Sometimes they would pay; being "older" (28 at least) they were impressive examples of manhood to us.
The bartender's name was Alan. I can still picture his face. I think Johnny Walker Reds were $4 at the time, and I remember smoking Merit Lights and nursing the scotch for at least an hour. $4 was a lot of money, and if you had any class you gave the bartender $1 for a tip.
I did end up sleeping with one of the salesmen a couple of times. My secretary friend did too (a different salesman). Really classy. When I left DC to go to graduate school, I took this ashtray. I don't smoke any more and it is maybe time to pass my young and wild legacy on... Alan if you are still around, cheers!
Michelle
Chicago
