It’s starts with a Duvel because they were out of Sam Smith. That’s not important, though. What’s important is that I excuse myself to the restroom and inside there’s a woman dressed head to toe in white garb, white turban, white floor length LA boheme wrap. She’s not ethnic. She is reflected in the many mirrors SLS has going on every which way; there’s a 1,000 of her all around me the minute I step into the bathroom. Savour Life Slowly. Yes. What did I write on the other side? I can’t tell you here as it’s not important. What is important? Pigs in the pool; yes, real bronzed ones. SLS decor is crazy; like the Viceroy on crack. Something about the iPad, have I played with it. No. One sip and I’m already there. The woman in white comes out of the bathroom and notices the glass chandelier–also white–dangling over us. She comments on it. It’s making me feel like I’m in a forest, hung so low, nearly tapping my forehead. I can’t break this barrier I realize, with him or this blog. This blog is the barrier to the truth I’d like to tell you. But I can’t, won’t. Anyway, it’s not important.