Prologue

Sitting in a cafe, watching life go by. One thinks one is along the boulevard of broken dreams. Where is a down and out James Dean walking by? Where is a washed-up Bogy who has never met his Bacall? Where is a Marilyn who has never graced the big screen or who has never had an ode sung to her by Elton John? What soda counter in a milkshake bar has an Elvis working behind the counter as a soda jerk?

This is it. The Heartbreak Hotel is here. In this cafe. Oh, there are no neon signs advertising it's the Heartbreak Hotel. Heartbreak doesn't advertise. It creeps in on you and works its way from the inside. And there you are. Inside. Inside the Heartbreak Hotel. And it seems like that infamous Hotel California of Eagles songlore, you can check out but you can never leave.

You can look at the distant street corner. You can look at the corner of the patio of the cafe. You can look at the corner of your table. And at the corner of your folded napkin. And the only words you seem to hear are "In a corner stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down and cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame, I am leaving, I am leaving, But the fighter still remains."


No, when all is said and done... John Candy doesn't live here anymore.