{"id":"01KG0725E9A9CCEYGRP2MDJ6G5","cid":"bafkreic3vsrqfxejeal5ewlid2ti3yiw4dfcw7hpys7fgso5qxhhx7kpqa","type":"chapter","properties":{"description":"# Chapter 9 \n## Overview \nThis entity is [Chapter 9](arke:01KG0725E9A9CCEYGRP2MDJ6G5) of a novel, presented as a structured text chapter containing 429 lines of narrative. It was extracted from a source document on January 27, 2026, and consists of ten smaller text chunks that collectively form the full chapter. The chapter is part of the larger work preserved in the [More Classics](arke:01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS) collection.\n\n## Context \nThe chapter is narrated in the first person by Holden Caulfield, a teenage protagonist whose voice and perspective define the novel. It follows his arrival in New York City after leaving Pencey Prep, a boarding school. The narrative captures his alienation, emotional instability, and search for connection in urban isolation. The events unfold over a single evening and reflect the broader themes of adolescence, identity, and societal phoniness that permeate the work.\n\n## Contents \nThe chapter details Holden’s attempts to stave off loneliness upon arriving in New York. He first tries to call several acquaintances from a phone booth at Penn Station but abandons the idea, fearing unwanted encounters with family or judgmental adults. He mistakenly directs his cab to his home before correcting the driver and inquiring about the fate of the ducks in Central Park when the pond freezes—a recurring symbolic concern. Checking into the Edmont Hotel, he observes disturbing and eccentric behavior through neighboring windows, reinforcing his sense of a world filled with “perverts” and phonies. \n\nHolden attempts to contact Faith Cavendish, a woman he was told might be open to casual encounters, but she declines his late-night invitation. Feeling restless, he changes clothes and visits the hotel’s Lavender Room nightclub. There, he dances with three women from Seattle, particularly bonding with Bernice, the blonde, whom he admires for her dancing despite her superficiality. He critiques their ignorance and obsession with movie stars, yet still feels a fleeting emotional connection. After buying them drinks, they leave to see a show at Radio City Music Hall—an act that depresses Holden, symbolizing their naïve engagement with commercialized culture. The chapter ends with Holden reflecting on the emptiness of nightclubs without meaningful companionship or alcohol, underscoring his profound loneliness.","description_generated_at":"2026-01-27T17:21:36.853Z","description_model":"Qwen/Qwen3-235B-A22B-Instruct-2507","description_title":"Chapter 9","end_line":1901,"extracted_at":"2026-01-27T17:12:16.499Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chapter 9","source_file":"01KFYTG9MG93RTB6YAW34V48XG","start_line":1473,"text":" 1410\t9\n 1411\tThe first thing I did when I got off at Penn Station, I went into this phone booth. I\n 1412\tfelt like giving somebody a buzz. I left my bags right outside the booth so that I could\n 1413\twatch them, but as soon as I was inside, I couldn't think of anybody to call up. My\n 1414\tbrother D.B. was in Hollywood. My kid sister Phoebe goes to bed around nine o'clock--\n 1415\tso I couldn't call her up. She wouldn't've cared if I'd woke her up, but the trouble was, she\n 1416\twouldn't've been the one that answered the phone. My parents would be the ones. So that\n 1417\twas out. Then I thought of giving Jane Gallagher's mother a buzz, and find out when\n 1418\tJane's vacation started, but I didn't feel like it. Besides, it was pretty late to call up. Then I\n 1419\tthought of calling this girl I used to go around with quite frequently, Sally Hayes,\n 1420\tbecause I knew her Christmas vacation had started already--she'd written me this long,\n 1421\tphony letter, inviting me over to help her trim the Christmas tree Christmas Eve and all--\n 1422\tbut I was afraid her mother'd answer the phone. Her mother knew my mother, and I could\n 1423\tpicture her breaking a goddam leg to get to the phone and tell my mother I was in New\n 1424\tYork. Besides, I wasn't crazy about talking to old Mrs. Hayes on the phone. She once told\n 1425\tSally I was wild. She said I was wild and that I had no direction in life. Then I thought of\n\n\n 1426\tcalling up this guy that went to the Whooton School when I was there, Carl Luce, but I\n 1427\tdidn't like him much. So I ended up not calling anybody. I came out of the booth, after\n 1428\tabout twenty minutes or so, and got my bags and walked over to that tunnel where the\n 1429\tcabs are and got a cab.\n 1430\tI'm so damn absent-minded, I gave the driver my regular address, just out of habit\n 1431\tand all--I mean I completely forgot I was going to shack up in a hotel for a couple of days\n 1432\tand not go home till vacation started. I didn't think of it till we were halfway through the\n 1433\tpark. Then I said, \"Hey, do you mind turning around when you get a chance? I gave you\n 1434\tthe wrong address. I want to go back downtown.\"\n 1435\tThe driver was sort of a wise guy. \"I can't turn around here, Mac. This here's a\n 1436\tone-way. I'll have to go all the way to Ninedieth Street now.\"\n 1437\tI didn't want to start an argument. \"Okay,\" I said. Then I thought of something, all\n 1438\tof a sudden. \"Hey, listen,\" I said. \"You know those ducks in that lagoon right near\n 1439\tCentral Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they\n 1440\tgo, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?\" I\n 1441\trealized it was only one chance in a million.\n 1442\tHe turned around and looked at me like I was a madman. \"What're ya tryna do,\n 1443\tbud?\" he said. \"Kid me?\"\n 1444\t\"No--I was just interested, that's all.\"\n 1445\tHe didn't say anything more, so I didn't either. Until we came out of the park at\n 1446\tNinetieth Street. Then he said, \"All right, buddy. Where to?\"\n 1447\t\"Well, the thing is, I don't want to stay at any hotels on the East Side where I\n 1448\tmight run into some acquaintances of mine. I'm traveling incognito,\" I said. I hate saying\n 1449\tcorny things like \"traveling incognito.\" But when I'm with somebody that's corny, I\n 1450\talways act corny too. \"Do you happen to know whose band's at the Taft or the New\n 1451\tYorker, by any chance?\"\n 1452\t\"No idear, Mac.\"\n 1453\t\"Well--take me to the Edmont then,\" I said. \"Would you care to stop on the way\n 1454\tand join me for a cocktail? On me. I'm loaded.\"\n 1455\t\"Can't do it, Mac. Sorry.\" He certainly was good company. Terrific personality.\n 1456\tWe got to the Edmont Hotel, and I checked in. I'd put on my red hunting cap\n 1457\twhen I was in the cab, just for the hell of it, but I took it off before I checked in. I didn't\n 1458\twant to look like a screwball or something. Which is really ironic. I didn't know then that\n 1459\tthe goddam hotel was full of perverts and morons. Screwballs all over the place.\n 1460\tThey gave me this very crumby room, with nothing to look out of the window at\n 1461\texcept the other side of the hotel. I didn't care much. I was too depressed to care whether\n 1462\tI had a good view or not. The bellboy that showed me to the room was this very old guy\n 1463\taround sixty-five. He was even more depressing than the room was. He was one of those\n 1464\tbald guys that comb all their hair over from the side to cover up the baldness. I'd rather be\n 1465\tbald than do that. Anyway, what a gorgeous job for a guy around sixty-five years old.\n 1466\tCarrying people's suitcases and waiting around for a tip. I suppose he wasn't too\n 1467\tintelligent or anything, but it was terrible anyway.\n 1468\tAfter he left, I looked out the window for a while, with my coat on and all. I didn't\n 1469\thave anything else to do. You'd be surprised what was going on on the other side of the\n 1470\thotel. They didn't even bother to pull their shades down. I saw one guy, a gray-haired,\n 1471\tvery distinguished-looking guy with only his shorts on, do something you wouldn't\n\n\n 1472\tbelieve me if I told you. First he put his suitcase on the bed. Then he took out all these\n 1473\twomen's clothes, and put them on. Real women's clothes--silk stockings, high-heeled\n 1474\tshoes, brassiere, and one of those corsets with the straps hanging down and all. Then he\n 1475\tput on this very tight black evening dress. I swear to God. Then he started walking up and\n 1476\tdown the room, taking these very small steps, the way a woman does, and smoking a\n 1477\tcigarette and looking at himself in the mirror. He was all alone, too. Unless somebody\n 1478\twas in the bathroom--I couldn't see that much. Then, in the window almost right over his,\n 1479\tI saw a man and a woman squirting water out of their mouths at each other. It probably\n 1480\twas highballs, not water, but I couldn't see what they had in their glasses. Anyway, first\n 1481\the'd take a swallow and squirt it all over her, then she did it to him--they took turns, for\n 1482\tGod's sake. You should've seen them. They were in hysterics the whole time, like it was\n 1483\tthe funniest thing that ever happened. I'm not kidding, the hotel was lousy with perverts. I\n 1484\twas probably the only normal bastard in the whole place--and that isn't saying much. I\n 1485\tdamn near sent a telegram to old Stradlater telling him to take the first train to New York.\n 1486\tHe'd have been the king of the hotel.\n 1487\tThe trouble was, that kind of junk is sort of fascinating to watch, even if you don't\n 1488\twant it to be. For instance, that girl that was getting water squirted all over her face, she\n 1489\twas pretty good-looking. I mean that's my big trouble. In my mind, I'm probably the\n 1490\tbiggest sex maniac you ever saw. Sometimes I can think of very crumby stuff I wouldn't\n 1491\tmind doing if the opportunity came up. I can even see how it might be quite a lot of fun,\n 1492\tin a crumby way, and if you were both sort of drunk and all, to get a girl and squirt water\n 1493\tor something all over each other's face. The thing is, though, I don't like the idea. It\n 1494\tstinks, if you analyze it. I think if you don't really like a girl, you shouldn't horse around\n 1495\twith her at all, and if you do like her, then you're supposed to like her face, and if you\n 1496\tlike her face, you ought to be careful about doing crumby stuff to it, like squirting water\n 1497\tall over it. It's really too bad that so much crumby stuff is a lot of fun sometimes. Girls\n 1498\taren't too much help, either, when you start trying not to get too crumby, when you start\n 1499\ttrying not to spoil anything really good. I knew this one girl, a couple of years ago, that\n 1500\twas even crumbier than I was. Boy, was she crumby! We had a lot of fun, though, for a\n 1501\twhile, in a crumby way. Sex is something I really don't understand too hot. You never\n 1502\tknow where the hell you are. I keep making up these sex rules for myself, and then I\n 1503\tbreak them right away. Last year I made a rule that I was going to quit horsing around\n 1504\twith girls that, deep down, gave me a pain in the ass. I broke it, though, the same week I\n 1505\tmade it--the same night, as a matter of fact. I spent the whole night necking with a\n 1506\tterrible phony named Anne Louise Sherman. Sex is something I just don't understand. I\n 1507\tswear to God I don't.\n 1508\tI started toying with the idea, while I kept standing there, of giving old Jane a\n 1509\tbuzz--I mean calling her long distance at B.M., where she went, instead of calling up her\n 1510\tmother to find out when she was coming home. You weren't supposed to call students up\n 1511\tlate at night, but I had it all figured out. I was going to tell whoever answered the phone\n 1512\tthat I was her uncle. I was going to say her aunt had just got killed in a car accident and I\n 1513\thad to speak to her immediately. It would've worked, too. The only reason I didn't do it\n 1514\twas because I wasn't in the mood. If you're not in the mood, you can't do that stuff right.\n 1515\tAfter a while I sat down in a chair and smoked a couple of cigarettes. I was\n 1516\tfeeling pretty horny. I have to admit it. Then, all of a sudden, I got this idea. I took out\n 1517\tmy wallet and started looking for this address a guy I met at a party last summer, that\n\n\n 1518\twent to Princeton, gave me. Finally I found it. It was all a funny color from my wallet,\n 1519\tbut you could still read it. It was the address of this girl that wasn't exactly a whore or\n 1520\tanything but that didn't mind doing it once in a while, this Princeton guy told me. He\n 1521\tbrought her to a dance at Princeton once, and they nearly kicked him out for bringing her.\n 1522\tShe used to be a burlesque stripper or something. Anyway, I went over to the phone and\n 1523\tgave her a buzz. Her name was Faith Cavendish, and she lived at the Stanford Arms\n 1524\tHotel on Sixty-fifth and Broadway. A dump, no doubt.\n 1525\tFor a while, I didn t think she was home or something. Nobody kept answering.\n 1526\tThen, finally, somebody picked up the phone.\n 1527\t\"Hello?\" I said. I made my voice quite deep so that she wouldn't suspect my age\n 1528\tor anything. I have a pretty deep voice anyway.\n 1529\t\"Hello,\" this woman's voice said. None too friendly, either.\n 1530\t\"Is this Miss Faith Cavendish?\"\n 1531\t\"Who's this?\" she said. \"Who's calling me up at this crazy goddam hour?\"\n 1532\tThat sort of scared me a little bit. \"Well, I know it's quite late,\" I said, in this very\n 1533\tmature voice and all. \"I hope you'll forgive me, but I was very anxious to get in touch\n 1534\twith you.\" I said it suave as hell. I really did.\n 1535\t\"Who is this?\" she said.\n 1536\t\"Well, you don't know me, but I'm a friend of Eddie Birdsell's. He suggested that\n 1537\tif I were in town sometime, we ought to get together for a cocktail or two.\"\n 1538\t\"Who? You're a friend of who?\" Boy, she was a real tigress over the phone. She\n 1539\twas damn near yelling at me.\n 1540\t\"Edmund Birdsell. Eddie Birdsell,\" I said. I couldn't remember if his name was\n 1541\tEdmund or Edward. I only met him once, at a goddam stupid party.\n 1542\t\"I don't know anybody by that name, Jack. And if you think I enjoy bein' woke up\n 1543\tin the middle--\"\n 1544\t\"Eddie Birdsell? From Princeton?\" I said.\n 1545\tYou could tell she was running the name over in her mind and all.\n 1546\t\"Birdsell, Birdsell. . . from Princeton.. . Princeton College?\"\n 1547\t\"That's right,\" I said.\n 1548\t\"You from Princeton College?\"\n 1549\t\"Well, approximately.\"\n 1550\t\"Oh. . . How is Eddie?\" she said. \"This is certainly a peculiar time to call a person\n 1551\tup, though. Jesus Christ.\"\n 1552\t\"He's fine. He asked to be remembered to you.\"\n 1553\t\"Well, thank you. Remember me to him,\" she said. \"He's a grand person. What's\n 1554\the doing now?\" She was getting friendly as hell, all of a sudden.\n 1555\t\"Oh, you know. Same old stuff,\" I said. How the hell did I know what he was\n 1556\tdoing? I hardly knew the guy. I didn't even know if he was still at Princeton. \"Look,\" I\n 1557\tsaid. \"Would you be interested in meeting me for a cocktail somewhere?\"\n 1558\t\"By any chance do you have any idea what time it is?\" she said. \"What's your\n 1559\tname, anyhow, may I ask?\" She was getting an English accent, all of a sudden. \"You\n 1560\tsound a little on the young side.\"\n 1561\tI laughed. \"Thank you for the compliment,\" I said-- suave as hell. \"Holden\n 1562\tCaulfield's my name.\" I should've given her a phony name, but I didn't think of it.\n\n\n 1563\t\"Well, look, Mr. Cawffle. I'm not in the habit of making engagements in the\n 1564\tmiddle of the night. I'm a working gal.\"\n 1565\t\"Tomorrow's Sunday,\" I told her.\n 1566\t\"Well, anyway. I gotta get my beauty sleep. You know how it is.\"\n 1567\t\"I thought we might have just one cocktail together. It isn't too late.\"\n 1568\t\"Well. You're very sweet,\" she said. \"Where ya callin' from? Where ya at now,\n 1569\tanyways?\"\n 1570\t\"Me? I'm in a phone booth.\"\n 1571\t\"Oh,\" she said. Then there was this very long pause. \"Well, I'd like awfully to get\n 1572\ttogether with you sometime, Mr. Cawffle. You sound very attractive. You sound like a\n 1573\tvery attractive person. But it is late.\"\n 1574\t\"I could come up to your place.\"\n 1575\t\"Well, ordinary, I'd say grand. I mean I'd love to have you drop up for a cocktail,\n 1576\tbut my roommate happens to be ill. She's been laying here all night without a wink of\n 1577\tsleep. She just this minute closed her eyes and all. I mean.\"\n 1578\t\"Oh. That's too bad.\"\n 1579\t\"Where ya stopping at? Perhaps we could get together for cocktails tomorrow.\"\n 1580\t\"I can't make it tomorrow,\" I said. \"Tonight's the only time I can make it.\" What a\n 1581\tdope I was. I shouldn't've said that.\n 1582\t\"Oh. Well, I'm awfully sorry.\"\n 1583\t\"I'll say hello to Eddie for you.\"\n 1584\t\"Willya do that? I hope you enjoy your stay in New York. It's a grand place.\"\n 1585\t\"I know it is. Thanks. Good night,\" I said. Then I hung up.\n 1586\tBoy, I really fouled that up. I should've at least made it for cocktails or something.\n 1587\t10\n 1588\tIt was still pretty early. I'm not sure what time it was, but it wasn't too late. The\n 1589\tone thing I hate to do is go to bed when I'm not even tired. So I opened my suitcases and\n 1590\ttook out a clean shirt, and then I went in the bathroom and washed and changed my shirt.\n 1591\tWhat I thought I'd do, I thought I'd go downstairs and see what the hell was going on in\n 1592\tthe Lavender Room. They had this night club, the Lavender Room, in the hotel.\n 1593\tWhile I was changing my shirt, I damn near gave my kid sister Phoebe a buzz,\n 1594\tthough. I certainly felt like talking to her on the phone. Somebody with sense and all. But\n 1595\tI couldn't take a chance on giving her a buzz, because she was only a little kid and she\n 1596\twouldn't have been up, let alone anywhere near the phone. I thought of maybe hanging\n 1597\tup if my parents answered, but that wouldn't've worked, either. They'd know it was me.\n 1598\tMy mother always knows it's me. She's psychic. But I certainly wouldn't have minded\n 1599\tshooting the crap with old Phoebe for a while.\n 1600\tYou should see her. You never saw a little kid so pretty and smart in your whole\n 1601\tlife. She's really smart. I mean she's had all A's ever since she started school. As a matter\n 1602\tof fact, I'm the only dumb one in the family. My brother D.B.'s a writer and all, and my\n 1603\tbrother Allie, the one that died, that I told you about, was a wizard. I'm the only really\n 1604\tdumb one. But you ought to see old Phoebe. She has this sort of red hair, a little bit like\n 1605\tAllie's was, that's very short in the summertime. In the summertime, she sticks it behind\n\n\n 1606\ther ears. She has nice, pretty little ears. In the wintertime, it's pretty long, though.\n 1607\tSometimes my mother braids it and sometimes she doesn't. It's really nice, though. She's\n 1608\tonly ten. She's quite skinny, like me, but nice skinny. Roller-skate skinny. I watched her\n 1609\tonce from the window when she was crossing over Fifth Avenue to go to the park, and\n 1610\tthat's what she is, roller-skate skinny. You'd like her. I mean if you tell old Phoebe\n 1611\tsomething, she knows exactly what the hell you're talking about. I mean you can even\n 1612\ttake her anywhere with you. If you take her to a lousy movie, for instance, she knows it's\n 1613\ta lousy movie. If you take her to a pretty good movie, she knows it's a pretty good movie.\n 1614\tD.B. and I took her to see this French movie, The Baker's Wife, with Raimu in it. It killed\n 1615\ther. Her favorite is The 39 Steps, though, with Robert Donat. She knows the whole\n 1616\tgoddam movie by heart, because I've taken her to see it about ten times. When old Donat\n 1617\tcomes up to this Scotch farmhouse, for instance, when he's running away from the cops\n 1618\tand all, Phoebe'll say right out loud in the movie--right when the Scotch guy in the\n 1619\tpicture says it--\"Can you eat the herring?\" She knows all the talk by heart. And when this\n 1620\tprofessor in the picture, that's really a German spy, sticks up his little finger with part of\n 1621\tthe middle joint missing, to show Robert Donat, old Phoebe beats him to it--she holds up\n 1622\ther little finger at me in the dark, right in front of my face. She's all right. You'd like her.\n 1623\tThe only trouble is, she's a little too affectionate sometimes. She's very emotional, for a\n 1624\tchild. She really is. Something else she does, she writes books all the time. Only, she\n 1625\tdoesn't finish them. They're all about some kid named Hazel Weatherfield--only old\n 1626\tPhoebe spells it \"Hazle.\" Old Hazle Weatherfield is a girl detective. She's supposed to be\n 1627\tan orphan, but her old man keeps showing up. Her old man's always a \"tall attractive\n 1628\tgentleman about 20 years of age.\" That kills me. Old Phoebe. I swear to God you'd like\n 1629\ther. She was smart even when she was a very tiny little kid. When she was a very tiny\n 1630\tlittle kid, I and Allie used to take her to the park with us, especially on Sundays. Allie had\n 1631\tthis sailboat he used to like to fool around with on Sundays, and we used to take old\n 1632\tPhoebe with us. She'd wear white gloves and walk right between us, like a lady and all.\n 1633\tAnd when Allie and I were having some conversation about things in general, old\n 1634\tPhoebe'd be listening. Sometimes you'd forget she was around, because she was such a\n 1635\tlittle kid, but she'd let you know. She'd interrupt you all the time. She'd give Allie or I a\n 1636\tpush or something, and say, \"Who? Who said that? Bobby or the lady?\" And we'd tell her\n 1637\twho said it, and she'd say, \"Oh,\" and go right on listening and all. She killed Allie, too. I\n 1638\tmean he liked her, too. She's ten now, and not such a tiny little kid any more, but she still\n 1639\tkills everybody--everybody with any sense, anyway.\n 1640\tAnyway, she was somebody you always felt like talking to on the phone. But I\n 1641\twas too afraid my parents would answer, and then they'd find out I was in New York and\n 1642\tkicked out of Pencey and all. So I just finished putting on my shirt. Then I got all ready\n 1643\tand went down in the elevator to the lobby to see what was going on.\n 1644\tExcept for a few pimpy-looking guys, and a few whory-looking blondes, the\n 1645\tlobby was pretty empty. But you could hear the band playing in the Lavender Room, and\n 1646\tso I went in there. It wasn't very crowded, but they gave me a lousy table anyway--way in\n 1647\tthe back. I should've waved a buck under the head-waiter's nose. In New York, boy,\n 1648\tmoney really talks--I'm not kidding.\n 1649\tThe band was putrid. Buddy Singer. Very brassy, but not good brassy--corny\n 1650\tbrassy. Also, there were very few people around my age in the place. In fact, nobody was\n 1651\taround my age. They were mostly old, show-offy-looking guys with their dates. Except at\n\n\n 1652\tthe table right next to me. At the table right next to me, there were these three girls\n 1653\taround thirty or so. The whole three of them were pretty ugly, and they all had on the\n 1654\tkind of hats that you knew they didn't really live in New York, but one of them, the\n 1655\tblonde one, wasn't too bad. She was sort of cute, the blonde one, and I started giving her\n 1656\tthe old eye a little bit, but just then the waiter came up for my order. I ordered a Scotch\n 1657\tand soda, and told him not to mix it--I said it fast as hell, because if you hem and haw,\n 1658\tthey think you're under twenty-one and won't sell you any intoxicating liquor. I had\n 1659\ttrouble with him anyway, though. \"I'm sorry, sir,\" he said, \"but do you have some\n 1660\tverification of your age? Your driver's license, perhaps?\"\n 1661\tI gave him this very cold stare, like he'd insulted the hell out of me, and asked\n 1662\thim, \"Do I look like I'm under twenty-one?\"\n 1663\t\"I'm sorry, sir, but we have our--\"\n 1664\t\"Okay, okay,\" I said. I figured the hell with it. \"Bring me a Coke.\" He started to\n 1665\tgo away, but I called him back. \"Can'tcha stick a little rum in it or something?\" I asked\n 1666\thim. I asked him very nicely and all. \"I can't sit in a corny place like this cold sober.\n 1667\tCan'tcha stick a little rum in it or something?\"\n 1668\t\"I'm very sorry, sir. . .\" he said, and beat it on me. I didn't hold it against him,\n 1669\tthough. They lose their jobs if they get caught selling to a minor. I'm a goddam minor.\n 1670\tI started giving the three witches at the next table the eye again. That is, the\n 1671\tblonde one. The other two were strictly from hunger. I didn't do it crudely, though. I just\n 1672\tgave all three of them this very cool glance and all. What they did, though, the three of\n 1673\tthem, when I did it, they started giggling like morons. They probably thought I was too\n 1674\tyoung to give anybody the once-over. That annoyed hell out of me-- you'd've thought I\n 1675\twanted to marry them or something. I should've given them the freeze, after they did that,\n 1676\tbut the trouble was, I really felt like dancing. I'm very fond of dancing, sometimes, and\n 1677\tthat was one of the times. So all of a sudden, I sort of leaned over and said, \"Would any\n 1678\tof you girls care to dance?\" I didn't ask them crudely or anything. Very suave, in fact. But\n 1679\tGod damn it, they thought that was a panic, too. They started giggling some more. I'm\n 1680\tnot kidding, they were three real morons. \"C'mon,\" I said. \"I'll dance with you one at a\n 1681\ttime. All right? How 'bout it? C'mon!\" I really felt like dancing.\n 1682\tFinally, the blonde one got up to dance with me, because you could tell I was\n 1683\treally talking to her, and we walked out to the dance floor. The other two grools nearly\n 1684\thad hysterics when we did. I certainly must've been very hard up to even bother with any\n 1685\tof them.\n 1686\tBut it was worth it. The blonde was some dancer. She was one of the best dancers\n 1687\tI ever danced with. I'm not kidding, some of these very stupid girls can really knock you\n 1688\tout on a dance floor. You take a really smart girl, and half the time she's trying to lead\n 1689\tyou around the dance floor, or else she's such a lousy dancer, the best thing to do is stay\n 1690\tat the table and just get drunk with her.\n 1691\t\"You really can dance,\" I told the blonde one. \"You oughta be a pro. I mean it. I\n 1692\tdanced with a pro once, and you're twice as good as she was. Did you ever hear of Marco\n 1693\tand Miranda?\"\n 1694\t\"What?\" she said. She wasn't even listening to me. She was looking all around the\n 1695\tplace.\n 1696\t\"I said did you ever hear of Marco and Miranda?\"\n 1697\t\"I don't know. No. I don't know.\"\n\n\n 1698\t\"Well, they're dancers, she's a dancer. She's not too hot, though. She does\n 1699\teverything she's supposed to, but she's not so hot anyway. You know when a girl's really\n 1700\ta terrific dancer?\"\n 1701\t\"Wudga say?\" she said. She wasn't listening to me, even. Her mind was\n 1702\twandering all over the place.\n 1703\t\"I said do you know when a girl's really a terrific dancer?\"\n 1704\t\"Uh-uh.\"\n 1705\t\"Well--where I have my hand on your back. If I think there isn't anything\n 1706\tunderneath my hand--no can, no legs, no feet, no anything--then the girl's really a terrific\n 1707\tdancer.\"\n 1708\tShe wasn't listening, though. So I ignored her for a while. We just danced. God,\n 1709\tcould that dopey girl dance. Buddy Singer and his stinking band was playing \"Just One of\n 1710\tThose Things\" and even they couldn't ruin it entirely. It's a swell song. I didn't try any\n 1711\ttrick stuff while we danced--I hate a guy that does a lot of show-off tricky stuff on the\n 1712\tdance floor--but I was moving her around plenty, and she stayed with me. The funny\n 1713\tthing is, I thought she was enjoying it, too, till all of a sudden she came out with this very\n 1714\tdumb remark. \"I and my girl friends saw Peter Lorre last night,\" she said. \"The movie\n 1715\tactor. In person. He was buyin' a newspaper. He's cute.\"\n 1716\t\"You're lucky,\" I told her. \"You're really lucky. You know that?\" She was really a\n 1717\tmoron. But what a dancer. I could hardly stop myself from sort of giving her a kiss on the\n 1718\ttop of her dopey head--you know-- right where the part is, and all. She got sore when I\n 1719\tdid it.\n 1720\t\"Hey! What's the idea?\"\n 1721\t\"Nothing. No idea. You really can dance,\" I said. \"I have a kid sister that's only in\n 1722\tthe goddam fourth grade. You're about as good as she is, and she can dance better than\n 1723\tanybody living or dead.\"\n 1724\t\"Watch your language, if you don't mind.\"\n 1725\tWhat a lady, boy. A queen, for Chrissake.\n 1726\t\"Where you girls from?\" I asked her.\n 1727\tShe didn't answer me, though. She was busy looking around for old Peter Lorre to\n 1728\tshow up, I guess.\n 1729\t\"Where you girls from?\" I asked her again.\n 1730\t\"What?\" she said.\n 1731\t\"Where you girls from? Don't answer if you don't feel like it. I don't want you to\n 1732\tstrain yourself.\"\n 1733\t\"Seattle, Washington,\" she said. She was doing me a big favor to tell me.\n 1734\t\"You're a very good conversationalist,\" I told her. \"You know that?\"\n 1735\t\"What?\"\n 1736\tI let it drop. It was over her head, anyway. \"Do you feel like jitterbugging a little\n 1737\tbit, if they play a fast one? Not corny jitterbug, not jump or anything--just nice and easy.\n 1738\tEverybody'll all sit down when they play a fast one, except the old guys and the fat guys,\n 1739\tand we'll have plenty of room. Okay?\"\n 1740\t\"It's immaterial to me,\" she said. \"Hey--how old are you, anyhow?\"\n 1741\tThat annoyed me, for some reason. \"Oh, Christ. Don't spoil it,\" I said. \"I'm\n 1742\ttwelve, for Chrissake. I'm big for my age.\"\n\n\n 1743\t\"Listen. I toleja about that. I don't like that type language,\" she said. \"If you're\n 1744\tgonna use that type language, I can go sit down with my girl friends, you know.\"\n 1745\tI apologized like a madman, because the band was starting a fast one. She started\n 1746\tjitterbugging with me-- but just very nice and easy, not corny. She was really good. All\n 1747\tyou had to do was touch her. And when she turned around, her pretty little butt twitched\n 1748\tso nice and all. She knocked me out. I mean it. I was half in love with her by the time we\n 1749\tsat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if\n 1750\tthey're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall half in love with\n 1751\tthem, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can\n 1752\tdrive you crazy. They really can.\n 1753\tThey didn't invite me to sit down at their table-- mostly because they were too\n 1754\tignorant--but I sat down anyway. The blonde I'd been dancing with's name was Bernice\n 1755\tsomething--Crabs or Krebs. The two ugly ones' names were Marty and Laverne. I told\n 1756\tthem my name was Jim Steele, just for the hell of it. Then I tried to get them in a little\n 1757\tintelligent conversation, but it was practically impossible. You had to twist their arms.\n 1758\tYou could hardly tell which was the stupidest of the three of them. And the whole three\n 1759\tof them kept looking all around the goddam room, like as if they expected a flock of\n 1760\tgoddam movie stars to come in any minute. They probably thought movie stars always\n 1761\thung out in the Lavender Room when they came to New York, instead of the Stork Club\n 1762\tor El Morocco and all. Anyway, it took me about a half hour to find out where they all\n 1763\tworked and all in Seattle. They all worked in the same insurance office. I asked them if\n 1764\tthey liked it, but do you think you could get an intelligent answer out of those three\n 1765\tdopes? I thought the two ugly ones, Marty and Laverne, were sisters, but they got very\n 1766\tinsulted when I asked them. You could tell neither one of them wanted to look like the\n 1767\tother one, and you couldn't blame them, but it was very amusing anyway.\n 1768\tI danced with them all--the whole three of them--one at a time. The one ugly one,\n 1769\tLaverne, wasn't too bad a dancer, but the other one, old Marty, was murder. Old Marty\n 1770\twas like dragging the Statue of Liberty around the floor. The only way I could even half\n 1771\tenjoy myself dragging her around was if I amused myself a little. So I told her I just saw\n 1772\tGary Cooper, the movie star, on the other side of the floor.\n 1773\t\"Where?\" she asked me--excited as hell. \"Where?\"\n 1774\t\"Aw, you just missed him. He just went out. Why didn't you look when I told\n 1775\tyou?\"\n 1776\tShe practically stopped dancing, and started looking over everybody's heads to\n 1777\tsee if she could see him. \"Oh, shoot!\" she said. I'd just about broken her heart-- I really\n 1778\thad. I was sorry as hell I'd kidded her. Some people you shouldn't kid, even if they\n 1779\tdeserve it.\n 1780\tHere's what was very funny, though. When we got back to the table, old Marty\n 1781\ttold the other two that Gary Cooper had just gone out. Boy, old Laverne and Bernice\n 1782\tnearly committed suicide when they heard that. They got all excited and asked Marty if\n 1783\tshe'd seen him and all. Old Mart said she'd only caught a glimpse of him. That killed me.\n 1784\tThe bar was closing up for the night, so I bought them all two drinks apiece quick\n 1785\tbefore it closed, and I ordered two more Cokes for myself. The goddam table was lousy\n 1786\twith glasses. The one ugly one, Laverne, kept kidding me because I was only drinking\n 1787\tCokes. She had a sterling sense of humor. She and old Marty were drinking Tom\n 1788\tCollinses--in the middle of December, for God's sake. They didn't know any better. The\n\n\n 1789\tblonde one, old Bernice, was drinking bourbon and water. She was really putting it away,\n 1790\ttoo. The whole three of them kept looking for movie stars the whole time. They hardly\n 1791\ttalked--even to each other. Old Marty talked more than the other two. She kept saying\n 1792\tthese very corny, boring things, like calling the can the \"little girls' room,\" and she\n 1793\tthought Buddy Singer's poor old beat-up clarinet player was really terrific when he stood\n 1794\tup and took a couple of ice-cold hot licks. She called his clarinet a \"licorice stick.\" Was\n 1795\tshe corny. The other ugly one, Laverne, thought she was a very witty type. She kept\n 1796\tasking me to call up my father and ask him what he was doing tonight. She kept asking\n 1797\tme if my father had a date or not. Four times she asked me that--she was certainly witty.\n 1798\tOld Bernice, the blonde one, didn't say hardly anything at all. Every time I'd ask her\n 1799\tsomething, she said \"What?\" That can get on your nerves after a while.\n 1800\tAll of a sudden, when they finished their drink, all three of them stood up on me\n 1801\tand said they had to get to bed. They said they were going to get up early to see the first\n 1802\tshow at Radio City Music Hall. I tried to get them to stick around for a while, but they\n 1803\twouldn't. So we said good-by and all. I told them I'd look them up in Seattle sometime, if\n 1804\tI ever got there, but I doubt if I ever will. Look them up, I mean.\n 1805\tWith cigarettes and all, the check came to about thirteen bucks. I think they\n 1806\tshould've at least offered to pay for the drinks they had before I joined them--I\n 1807\twouldn't've let them, naturally, but they should've at least offered. I didn't care much,\n 1808\tthough. They were so ignorant, and they had those sad, fancy hats on and all. And that\n 1809\tbusiness about getting up early to see the first show at Radio City Music Hall depressed\n 1810\tme. If somebody, some girl in an awful-looking hat, for instance, comes all the way to\n 1811\tNew York--from Seattle, Washington, for God's sake--and ends up getting up early in the\n 1812\tmorning to see the goddam first show at Radio City Music Hall, it makes me so\n 1813\tdepressed I can't stand it. I'd've bought the whole three of them a hundred drinks if only\n 1814\tthey hadn't told me that.\n 1815\tI left the Lavender Room pretty soon after they did. They were closing it up\n 1816\tanyway, and the band had quit a long time ago. In the first place, it was one of those\n 1817\tplaces that are very terrible to be in unless you have somebody good to dance with, or\n 1818\tunless the waiter lets you buy real drinks instead of just Cokes. There isn't any night club\n 1819\tin the world you can sit in for a long time unless you can at least buy some liquor and get\n 1820\tdrunk. Or unless you're with some girl that really knocks you out.","title":"Chapter 9"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS","peer_label":"More Classics","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG076JSPPJ8VBRESWRSDKKTH","peer_label":"Chunk 1","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JT38DSQD74QFKX8Z3BX","peer_label":"Chunk 2","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JSRP4NA97CQJX26KY2D","peer_label":"Chunk 3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JSQ22BAV7VXM919XC4P","peer_label":"Chunk 4","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JSNGS313V4RZV0Z57NH","peer_label":"Chunk 5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JSR4NDN94D96FZ6C1MJ","peer_label":"Chunk 6","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JX09T5E1BZQEEE4GYMJ","peer_label":"Chunk 7","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JSS8C0YXMYQKZVF4JQW","peer_label":"Chunk 8","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG076JST7XS7D832R7ZDRKVY","peer_label":"Chunk 9","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"},{"peer":"01KG0770B61JD5CE4TD8VSNJDJ","peer_label":"Chunk 10","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"contains"}],"ver":3,"created_at":"2026-01-27T17:12:17.388Z","ts":"2026-01-27T17:21:37.095Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF5C36SQEVDHC9CBNZZJH9K"}}