I walked all the way back to the hotel. Forty-one magnificent blocks. I wished I knew the phoney that swiped my gloves. I’m not saying I would have done anything about it or anything because I wouldn’t have. I’m one of these very yellow guys. I’d feel I ought to sock the guy in the jaw - break it or something. Only, I wouldn’t have the guts to do it, but I’d make an attempt to look tough. Yeah, so that’s what I thought about on my way back to the hotel. Boy, it depressed me. I felt sort of lousy and depressed. I almost wished I was dead.
The elevator guy asked me if I was innarested in having a good time. Boy, I got myself into a mess. I should have just said no. We didn't even do anything.
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