Mark studied me for several seconds, then looked away and said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea; you better walk or find another ride.”I was...dumfounded. “But honey, I need...”I don’t want the kids to see you dressed like a slut,” he interrupted me. “I don’t have time to drop them off, then come back and get you and take you to Sheila’s. If I do all of that running around, I won’t make it to work on time myself.”I began to cry, but just turned away and left without saying anything more. With a. The good news, I’m a regular here. I know Mellissa the bartender, the front desk staff knows me and takes care of me – upgraded to a suite on Friday evening (nobody else is using it). It could be worse.The elevator door opens, I cross the lobby toward one of my most frequented bar/restaurants – all of them are in hotels or in Airline clubs (Hartford has no club). I have STATUS, a dubious distinction. This is not my first Friday night in Winsor Locks. As I enter the bar, Mellissa smiles, gives. More

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