I have waited for Martha for over

TEN YEARS. Ten long, tiresome- yet exhilarating-years. Yes, I've waited for her by a pool on a blistering afternoon in Istanbul, on a bench in Seville, outside plenty of WC's in London, eating atop a roof in Marrakesh, and in the fancy hotel lobbies lining Rio's Ipanema. "Oh, excuse me, I'm waiting for my friend Martha" has become my internationally used/necessary phrase as I have warded of people who want my bench, or who are bothered by my taking advantage of AC in their hotel lobby (hotels I never stay in). It seems almost automatic that once I imply that I am waiting for someone important, I earn all the credibility in the world. "Well, if you're waiting for Martha, then I understand! Take your time..." I make sure to put special emphasis when I say "Martha". I like to almost whisper it like it's a secret. I'm sure they have no idea who this illusive Martha is, and sadly they never find out. Martha is a no show. I wait sometimes hours for her and she never arrives. Perhaps she's detained at a luncheon with the King? Maybe she got lost in a super sale at Galleries Lafayette or Printemps? I suppose I have to forgive her- she is in fact Martha.