That Singles Week At The Concord

That Singles Week at the Concord

by

Tragudis

For the last couple years, Jeff had been trying to talk me into vacationing at the Concord Resort during summer singles week (he'd been to several of them). However, for one reason or another, usually because I was in a relationship, I declined. That wasn't the case in the summer of 1977. Then in my late twenties, and single after a broken engagement months before, I was game to go. Not so much to dive into another relationship but just to get away and go someplace where I had never been.

The Concord was one of a chain of resorts in the Catskill Mountains region in upstate New York, known as the Borscht Belt, and it was one of the last resorts of its kind to close (late 1990s) after falling on hard times. In the 1970s, however, it was still doing well after opening forty years earlier, especially during singles week. Baby-boomers were coming of age, looking for a significant other in the Me Decade era of the singles bar. Jeff, in his early thirties, and after a series of short-term relationships, was looking for The One with whom to connect. "But if I don't find her there," he said, "there's always the food and sports."

Indeed, because Concord, even during singles week, I found out, offered much more than just a place to meet and greet. The food was delicious, there was plenty of it and you could get just about anything a person would want. Those on a diet to lose weight need not apply, because even the most disciplined dieter would invariably fall "victim" to the sumptuous, multi-course meals served. I gained a few pounds there, even with all the sports activities that included volleyball, softball, swimming, tennis and others. There was also a fitness room and sauna.

We ate in a dining hall big enough to serve 3500 people. Round tables filled the room, and we usually dined with the same people for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That's when I first laid eyes on Alana Fishman. She had come with a girlfriend; both were Canadians from Toronto. Not to judge, but attractive women were in short supply. Alana was one of the exceptions. Beautiful? No, but very cute. She had long, dark hair, and she wore bangs al la' 1950s pinup queen Betty Page. The resemblance ended there, for she lacked Betty's near perfect hourglass figure. Alana stood a compact five-two, on the chunky side but hardly overweight. She had lovely cheek bones, a warm smile and a nose, smallish and concave in shape, that women who wanted a nose job would envy.

She sat at our table, along with her girlfriend Marie, Jeff, me and about six other people, that included a young, aspiring comedian named Jay Kravitz who admired another Jay, Jay Leno, who performed that week at Concord before he became a household name. Jay and Alana appeared to hit it off, flirting and trading quips and jokes. In fact, one day, when Alana excused herself from the table, Jay said he thought that he and she would soon become intimate. "I'll ask her up to my room, and I guess we'll end up in bed," he said. For once, he wasn't doing his usual schtick, constantly throwing out lines to get a laugh. He was serious. At that point, Alana and I hadn't said a word to each other. I wanted to get to know her, but she seemed more interested in Jay "wannabe Leno." Plus, still a bit drained from the drama of my broken engagement, I felt almost apathetic when it came to meeting someone new.

Meanwhile, I played sports during the day, mostly volleyball, worked out in the fitness room and spent a good deal of time in the sauna. Once, lounging around the lobby, an attractive, fortyish woman from New York started talking to me. When I didn't say much, she said, "I guess you're the strong silent type." I just shrugged and that was that.

Which brings me back to Alana Fishman. She was in my thoughts, on and off, and I thought under different circumstances, I might try to connect with her. She didn't seem interested in me at all. Had she shown any interest, like making a "first move," I would have probably pursued it. I'd see her at the pool wearing a bikini, her sexy, well-endowed, compact body on full display. And she'd see me, jacked up from over ten years of lifting weights. We were like two bodies passing in the proverbial night, except it was under bright sunshine. I got the impression that she saw me as this dumb, shallow jock, gleaned from conversations with Jeff around the dining table, where barbells were a frequent topic.

Well, one night, my journey through singles week took an abrupt turn. Nightly activities included a bar and lounge. The Starlight Lounge, they called it. Turquoise carpet, chairs upholstered in blue and orange, dimmed chandeliers hanging from a blue ceiling--it looked like it hadn't been redecorated since Eisenhower was president. I was standing there by myself, Tom Collins in hand, just checking out the scene, when I saw Alana and Marie talking to one of the resort's male staffers, a college-age guy who looked like every lifeguard you've ever seen at every beach resort you'd ever been to. The place was moderately crowded, not so crowded where I couldn't overhear their conversation.

"Where can I meet a nice guy around here?" Alana asked, clearly frustrated that she hadn't.

"I hate to tell you this, honey," he said, "but there are no nice guys around here. Most of them are out for one thing. Come on, it's singles week." Then he walked away.

I burst out laughing, almost spilling my drink on my blue and white, short sleeve knit sports shirt, which prompted Alana and Marie to turn around. They shot me an annoyed, what's so funny kind of look.

I was surprised when Alana stepped up to me. In a scolding tone, she said, "And I suppose you're one of those guys he meant? Out for one thing?"

"Whoa there, hon, you've got the wrong guy," I said. "I am out for one thing, and that's a good time. But not necessarily the kind he meant."

Alana stared at me with her dark brown eyes. Then she said, "Is that so."

"Yes, that's so." I took a sip, then said, "Your names are Alana and Marie, I know. Mine's Bond, James Bond."

They winced. Then, in a sing-song tone of voice, Alana said, "Cor-ny. And besides, you don't look like the Bond type."

Then I got real. "Okay, it's Kahn, Mason Kahn."

Marie asked, "So you're a CON man?" They both laughed.

"Now look who's being corny," I said. "And it's spelled K-a-h-n."

Marie wasn't nearly as pretty as Alana. She was taller and thinner, with short, frosted hair, a wide, protruding mouth and a Semitic nose that might have looked okay on Barbara Streisand but didn't do much for Marie.

I continued. "Alana, define what you mean by a nice guy."

She glanced at Marie, then looked back at me. "First off, it's a guy not out for just one thing, and I don't think I have to tell you what that is."

"Totally clueless." I said this with a straight face before breaking out into a broad grin.

"Very funny," Alana said. "Want me to go on?"

"Please do."

"Okay, well, a guy who's intelligent, with a good sense of humor and who's a good listener. Of course, the right kind of look helps also."

"What's the right kind of look? And don't say tall, dark and handsome."

"I wasn't. The right kind of look... Let's say I'll know it when I see it. It's all subjective."

There's no way in hell she means me, I thought. She already said that I didn't look like the 'Bond type,' in the mold of British suave, I supposed she meant. I didn't know what her "right kind of look" could be, but I didn't think it included a guy who stood around five-foot-nine and weighed close to two-hundred pounds. No, I pictured her with a slim six-footer with wavy, blondish hair and a face like that resort staffer she had just spoken with, not a guy with light brown hair, worn parted near the middle and long enough to cover his ears. Nevertheless, I felt bold enough to ask, "So, do you see him now?"

She played an exaggerated game of looking over my shoulder and around the room, while Marie stood there and grinned. Then, facing me, she said, "Oh, you mean you."

"You're a real tease, I bet."

Looking me up and down, she said, "Honestly, I normally don't go for heavily muscled guys." She reached out to feel my 17-inch bicep. "Impressive, but not my thing." Then she looked into my hazel eyes. "But I'll have to admit, I think you're quite nice looking. I like men with beards. Short beards like you have."

"Well, then, I guess I check one of your boxes. Now it's my turn. I think you're really cute."

We both smiled, stood there and flirted for a few moments. Then she took Marie off to the side. I watched them in whispered conversation, not knowing what the hell it was all about. About a minute later, Alana returned, while Marie left the room. "I hope she didn't leave on my account," I said.

"No, she left on mine," Alana revealed. "We're good friends who respect each other's wish for private time."

"So, the way I read it, you see some potential here and you want to spend some alone time with me to find out. Sorry, I don't mean to sound presumptuous."

"Your presumption, if that's what it is, is right. And for your information, I'm not a tease."

"And for YOUR information, I'm not a guy out for just that one thing. Now, can I buy you a drink?"

She looked at my glass. "It's a Tom Collins," I told her. "Want one?"

"I do. Thank you."

We stepped up to the bar, got the drink and then took a small, boomerang-shaped table with two of those orange upholstered chairs. Alana wore a yellow and white print dress, hemmed just above her knees and brown suede clogs. She wore no stockings over her legs, sexy in my eyes. Her legs were on the thick side but shapely. She caught me looking and smiled. Then she said, "So, Mason, by your accent, you don't sound like you're from around these parts."

"Right. I'm a Marylander from Baltimore. We have our own accents, or so I'm told. And you're from Toronto I heard you say at the dining table. Is there a big Jewish community up there?"

"Huge. Close to two-hundred thousand of us, the most of any Canadian metro area."

"And you teach third grade?"

"You've been paying attention at our table, I see."

"I'm a good listener. Did I just check box number two?"

She laughed out loud. "You sure did. Yes, I teach third grade at a local elementary school. And you? All I recall hearing from you is gym talk between you and that other guy."

"Jeff, you mean. We're rooming together this week. We met at our local JCC gym about ten years ago. By the way, I like the name Alana."

"Thanks. I like your name as well. You're the first Mason I've ever met."

"Thanks. So where was I? Oh, I got the impression that you might have thought of me as this one-dimensional muscle head who's only interest is pumping iron."

"Not at all. Mason, I had no pre-conceived notions about you. So please fill me in. Like, what you do when you're not pumping iron."

"I started a new job less than a year ago. I'm a public defender for the district court system."

"Ah, a law school graduate. I once thought of going to law school. Still do and might but I still find teaching kids very rewarding. I'm not ready to give it up. Do you find your work rewarding?"

"So far, although, as the complaint goes, we're overworked and underpaid. We have big caseloads. Consequently, we don't spend much time with defendants before trial. But our clients can't afford private counsel. We're poor people's lawyers."

This question-and-answer conversation was starting to feel like every first date I've ever had. You know, when people skim the surface of their lives before getting into the "heavier" stuff. I was starting to wonder if Alana and I would ever get that far. Then she spoke up. "So, have you ever been married?"

"No, but I was engaged once, and not too long ago."

She raised her eyebrows in interest. "Really...So what happened?"

"Long story short, I wasn't ready for marriage."

"You broke it off?"

"I did. I'll spare you the messy details."

"Messy details?"

"The drama, I mean. Can I assume you were never married?"

"Another correct assumption. No, never married."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes. I mean, no, not now. He dumped me a few months ago."

"I won't ask why."

"You can, I'm over it now. Well, pretty much. He took up with another girl who I thought was my friend. Nate--his name is Nate--is no longer my boyfriend and Ellen, his new amour, is no longer my friend."

"It sounds like you were betrayed."

"Big time. I didn't see it coming until it did."

"So now you're here to maybe meet someone special."

"Could be. Aren't you here for the same reason?"

"Not necessarily, although I wouldn't mind if I did."

We absorbed each other's "story" for a while. Then I said, "So what about Jay who sits at our table? From what I saw, you two appeared to hit it off."

She laughed and shook her head. "Jay's okay, just not my type. You've seen him, he's always on, always trying to get a laugh. He's funny, I guess, but a little too full of himself. A guy like him would bore me after a while." From what she said, I gleaned that Jay's fantasy of taking Alana up to his room remained just that, fantasy.

"So, I guess it's back to square one?"

"How's that?"

"Meaning, finding that nice guy you're looking for."

She sighed. "Listen, like you, hooking up isn't necessarily the reason I'm here. Yes, it would be nice, but I'm having fun. It's nice to get away and just relax. In a few weeks, I'll be back in the classroom."

The conversation hit a lull, so I threw out a line to keep it going. "So, see any good movies lately?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Annie Hall. Have you seen it?"

"Only three times. A brilliant comedy that should become a classic."

"That's the way I feel. Hilarious in parts, but kind of sad at the end when Alvy and Annie break up."

We began discussing the movie, trading our favorite parts and laughing together. We were both Woody Allen fans, had seen his previous films like Play It Again Sam, Sleeper, Take the Money and Run, a few others. Although this wasn't a formal date, laughing together helped ease that "first date" tension.

"Okay, we talked movies," she said. "What about books? Read any good ones lately?"

"The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom. Read the book AND saw the movie."

"Oh, I loved that movie," she gushed. "The risk those Christian people took to save Jews made me cry. Haven't read the book. Should I?"

"Yes, because it gives you detail that the movie, any movie, can't. It made me shed a few tears also. Had we been born in Europe during that time...Well, I think you know."

"Yes, all too well. I've been told that I lost a relative in the Holocaust."

When we finished our drinks, night had fallen. It was still early, and I wanted to spend more time with Alana. More than that, I wanted to hug and kiss her. She looked so cute in the dim lighting of the room; plus, I saw potential for something more. When I asked what she planned to do the rest of the evening, she said, "Oh, nothing special. How about you? Do you have something in mind?" Her warm, almost seductive smile told me that she wasn't ready to call it a night either.

"I do. Wanna take a walk?"

"Would love to."

*****

The Concord resort was spread over 3,000 acres, affording plenty of space to stroll. There were walking paths that curved around groves of trees and pagodas where you could sit and relax.

"Nice night," she said as we strolled along.

"A far cry from the miserably hot and humid August weather back in Baltimore," I said. "How about in Toronto?"

"We get our hot and humid days, too," she revealed, "but it seldom goes past eighty."

"In Baltimore, eighty would be considered cool this time of year."

We strolled on, passing another couple holding hands. "I wonder if they just met here," I said.

"Being that it's singles week, there's a good chance they did. They seem to like each other."

"How can you tell?"

"They were holding hands. That's a sure sign."

I stopped, turned and faced her. "Alana, maybe I'm jumping the gun, but I like you. Just wanted you to know."

She grinned and brushed her bangs across her forehead. "You're not jumping any gun, Mason, because I like you too." She reached out, took my hand, and we strolled on, holding hands like that couple we passed. Every so often, we'd squeeze each other's hand, adding to the warm and exciting feeling that enveloped me. We did a couple loops around, then took a seat in one of the pagodas. I threw an arm around her, and she snuggled closer, resting her head against my shoulder, close enough to where I could smell the lovely, fresh scent of her hair. Even in my twenties, I could sense that this was one of those rare, intoxicating moments in life that one never forgets.

"She looked up at me and said, "Mason, I'm so glad that you were standing nearby when Marie and I were talking to that staff member."

"And I'm glad that I got your attention by laughing at what he said about not finding any nice guys here."

"Yes, and you know what? He was wrong." She sat up and faced me. "Because I think I found one."

I cupped her round face in my hands and rubbed my thumbs against the soft skin of her cheeks. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Like you had to ask. Yes, please do."

Kissing a girl you just met for the first time...Remember how it felt? I'll never forget how it felt with Amy Fishman on that pleasant August night. We eased into it, our lips touching in a light, cautious way. After all, we were still strangers, "strangers in the night, exchanging glances, wondering in the night, what were the chances..." Frank's voice echoed in my head while I held and kissed her, eyes closed, my solar plexus tingling with desire and anticipation.

"I've got the shivers," she said when we parted.

"You're cold?"

"No, no, it's my word for this feeling I get when I'm with a guy who turns me on. You know..." She looked away and shook her head, as if embarrassed.

"Yes?"

After a moment's hesitation, she said, "I was just going to say that I could get used to that muscular body of yours."

I laughed. "You said muscles weren't your thing."

"Mason, I just love the way you hold and kiss me. Not to be presumptuous, as you might say, but I bet your naked body would feel wonderful against mine. That's all I'm trying to say."

"Speaking of naked bodies, or nearly naked bodies, I love the way you look in a bikini. I've checked you out at the pool. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. I don't know any girl who objects to being admired. I dared to wear the bikini because my body isn't exactly ideal for one. You know, super-slim like Marie."

Her naked body next to mine comment got me wondering if she meant that we might end up in bed together before we left the resort. I didn't dare ask. Take things slow, I told myself and see how it all plays out.

It couldn't play out any better in that pagoda. We continued our make-out, and then made plans to see each other the next day, not just in the dining hall but at the pool, where she promised to wear her bikini, "if you think it looks so good on me," she said.

Holding hands, we walked back to the hotel, one of several high-rise residential buildings in this vast vacation complex. After kissing goodnight in the lobby, I said, "I hope Marie won't be jealous."

"Envious maybe, not jealous," she said. "What about Jeff? Will he be jealous that you hooked up with someone?"

I shrugged. "Not sure. This is the first time we've taken a trip together. He's a friend but not one of my closest friends."

Jeff, it turned out, had hooked up with a girl he met on the volleyball court. Meanwhile, at breakfast, Alana and I sat together and let everyone know in our own subtle way that we were an item. Jay's face dropped in disappointment. Then he tried to put a comic spin on it, throwing out a couple "laugh" lines that bombed.