Chelsea Wildness - This Ain't no Holiday Inn: Down and Out at the Chelsea Hotel 1980-1995 - page 31

After I closed the door, I heard a sound like something pushing against my
door, like someone had squished something against it. I opened the door and
Dainty was gone, but there was a mashed cake stuck to the door. Apparently, to
be sympathetic, he had made me a cake.
I shut the door, thinking, Oh no. Why do I need this?
Inside my room, the table I was sitting at was right next to the door. The
Chelsea has doorframes with little windows above the frames. It's a solidly built
building,theChelsea.SoI'msittingatmytable,andallofasuddenIheararum-
bling in the hallway outside, sort of like the sound of a charging elephant.
Now Dainty was normally a gentle person, but he weighed 300 pounds. He
ran full throttle, hit my door, and with a tremendous crash right next to me, he
bashed this huge door frame down, making bricks and dust fly. And there he was
just standing in shock, as if he were thinking What have I done? Then he ran
away.
Meanwhile, the manager Stanley and the bellman had heard the tremendous
crash. The doorframe and the door itself probably weighed hundreds of pounds.
They ran upstairs, and found me sitting at my table covered in plaster and dust.
They just looked at me.
“What happened?”
“Well,”Isaid,“Iwantyoutoknowit'snottruethatDaintyandIareinlove.”
I started telling them this whole story about Dainty's love for me. Everyone
was quite appalled. They couldn't really believe that I hadn't provoked this.
Ironically, over my many years there, I later became friendly with Dainty.
Bygones became bygones.
But it did bring up a question. In a place like the Chelsea, where weirdness
was encouraged, where did you draw the line? Exactly what was too weird?
Indeed Volmer brings up one of the key philosophical issues that pervaded the Chelsea and
all Bohemian enclaves. In a community that prides itself on tolerating, even encouraging
weirdness, when was weird too weird for weirdos?