We were in St. Louis for a conference, and a group of longtime friends who see each other once a year at these events was sitting at a table at the hotel bar and restaurant. Several other tables in the place were filled with women from our conference, and one or another of us would frequently jump up to visit at other tables.
Marlene was walking back to us from one of those brief visits, with another woman right behind her. As she approached us, the other woman -- wearing a lovely flowered dress in vivid red -- put her arm around Marlene's shoulders and said, "I love you."
We tend to be a huggy, demonstrative group, so this did not seem odd. The woman greeted us warmly, and I thought she appeared slightly tipsy. But as we looked around at the confusion on each other's faces, it became clear that none of us actually knew the woman in red. That did not bother us; we all assumed she was a newer member of the group, whose name we were all struggling to remember. Marlene looked a little confused, too, but the woman's familiar manner led us to believe Marlene had maybe met her at last year's conference but could not recall her name.
The woman in red sat down with us and began talking. She asked about politics: "So, are all of you ladies liberals?"
Some of us said we certainly were, but the person in the group whom I knew was not seemed uncomfortable. Someone changed the subject, but the mystery woman refused to let it go, much to everyone's annoyance. She started telling us how important it was for us to vote against Trump. As much as I agreed with the sentiment, this was not an appropriate time for an awkward political conversation.
Finally, one of the women blurted out what everyone was thinking: "Who the hell are you?"
The woman in red responded that she was Carrie. Someone asked her if she was part of our group, there for the conference. She said no, and added something vague about being some sort of consultant. And then Carrie started haranguing us again about how crucial it was for everyone to be politically active and keep Trump out of office.
Finally, the more conservative person in our group told her bluntly that this was not the time and place to discuss politics, that we were here to relax, and that we had no desire to speak with her about anything that contentious. She said that Carrie should go find someone else to discuss it with, if she refused to change the subject. Carrie stood up, a sulky look on her face, and left the bar.
A little while later, she returned. This time she skirted by our table, carefully looking away from us, and headed straight to the bar. We were too far away to hear the conversation there, but were filled in later by the bartender and by some of our group at a table near there.
Carrie sat at the bar and began ordering drinks. And then she began cozying up to the man seated beside her. As she drank more and more, she had her arms around him and her hands all over him. She began making comments that went way beyond suggestive, well into x-rated territory. He had no interest and said so, but she would not leave him alone. The bartender tried to intervene, to no avail. Finally, the bartender called security.
A few minutes later, three security guards escorted Carrie out. None of us saw her again during our stay.
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