Rules of Civility

by Amor Towles

Old times, as my father used to say: If you’re not careful, they’ll gut you like a fish.

—That’s the problem with being born in New York, the old newsman observed a little sadly. You’ve got no New York to run away to.

—Slurring is the cursive of speech, I observed.

—If I may be so bold, Miss Kontent, the color of my hair is available to you on the second floor.

LOL

That’s how quickly New York City comes about—like a weather vane—or the head of a cobra. Time tells which.

An hour went by, maybe four. My boots became a size too small and my left heel felt like I had stepped on a frying pan.

On the steps of the Plaza stood the hotel’s officious captains dressed in long red coats with big brass buttons. Half a block away, the epauletted officers of the Essex House wore a sharply contrasting shade of blue. This would no doubt make things so much easier should the two hotels ever go to war.

😂

at any given moment we’re all seeking someone’s forgiveness.