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Oh why the hell did he choose the bed by the window? He silently asked himself, as he heard the voices of the hard laborers on the other side of the naked mock opening. He wasn’t hung over, though he did partake a bit the previous night, he was just easing the edge off from a shitty day. Raising his head from the pillow, the newly woken man gazed out the glass portal in the wall. The youngest Beatle eyes were suddenly locked on the white sparkling landscape before him. It was beautiful!
Now he remembered why he wanted this side of the room. George enjoyed watching the snowflakes fall from the night sky, like a shower of crystals baptizing the earth from the heaven’s. It gave him a sense of peace from the chaos of his life. During his last moments awake the lead guitarist had rolled a joint and lost himself looking out the window. It had captivated him and the youth meditated deeply as he lost himself in the splendid view of the frozen water blanketing the landscape. It was perfectly unspoiled, until now.
Ringo spent his night watching television, while George was toiling mystically in his head. The lead guitarists wasn’t too keen for this radio box with moving pictures. He felt it took up too much of people’s time. Yet the drummer entertained himself with American gameshows that made no sense to the youngest of the group. Then there was the dreadful news that was both boring and often bad. George had a habit of slipping into his own little world. He appreciated the escape from the media the window gave him. Having adjusted to a privileged life, he wasn’t anticipating all the noise that would follow.
Although the famous man wasn’t accustomed to being on the main floor, he was humble enough to be flexible when it came to their circumstances limiting them to such options. Naturally John and Paul would take the room upstairs, which neither he nor Ringo cared about. This really was such a minor inconvenience. Rubbing the hard sandy sleep from the dark brown eyes Harrison draped his long legs over the side of the mattress.
There was no use remaining in bed when he wasn’t sleeping. Meanwhile, Ringo slumbered peacefully reminiscent of a baby, in the next bed over. The drummer slept soundly with his back to his bandmate, snoring lightly as normal, in which George was accustomed. Not wanting to disturb his friend at such an early hour, the youngest Beatle determined his best solution was to grab an early breakfast at the restaurant inside the hotel.
Getting up, he went through his suitcase and retrieved a comfortable but sensible outfit for the task. It was subtle, but nice enough to be pictured in for the image the entire band relentlessly kept up. A simple olive green turtleneck and brown slacks, perfect for down time and to wear before changing for a show. He brought the clothes and a separate brown bag he used to store his toiletries into the bathroom. Following his traditional customs including setting up the shower to his preferred temperature and undressing, he innocently opened his bag when he realized the bright orange tag, that must have accidentally been folded inside, had the name “McCartney” spelled out in black magic marker. There was also Paul’s razor, aftershave, lotion, etc…
“Fuck!” George caught himself saying out loud. He and Paul McCartney had inadvertently purchased the same toiletry bag in the exact same brown color. A simple mistake that could be rectified with a trip to the store, but both stubborn youths weren’t willing to give up the tiny suitcase. It was a really nice bag. The design was sturdy, convenient and had the right number of compartments for their needs. However this will lead to inevitable mix-ups and today was one of those days. This was still a minor inconvenience, just a more frustrating one!
As silent as a monk, the youngest Beatle redressed in his pajamas, turned off the shower and exited the bathroom annoyed. While his mind was consumed by the topic of how stubborn Paul was for keeping the same bag, George pulled out his housecoat from his suitcase, wrapping it over his body. With his feet in his slippers the lead guitarists exited his room, with Paul’s toiletry bag in hand.
The famous Beatle didn’t get far when he was stopped by a fan asking for an autograph on her son’s behalf. A blond haired middle-aged woman dressed in a green business suit, caught up with him at the elevator. Judging by her facial expressions he realized her request was really for herself. Still, George was feeling generous, so he signed her little pad. Then being even nicer let the pretty middle aged lady hug and kiss him on the cheek. Having done his good deed the Beatle entered the elevator, waving at the adoring “mother” of a fan, as the door closed.
Instinctively he rubbed his cheek where she had kissed him and naturally he found remnants of her lipstick. Ugh, this was annoying and a little gross, so the musician used the sleeve of his house coat to wipe it away but it left a little rouge coloring on his cheek. The quiet Beatle went to the top floor where his other two bandmates resided. Their room number was on the key he grasped in his pocket, as it was there custom when sharing a hotel together.
All four of these men had needed help at one time or another and their other bandmates having access to their rooms had saved both pain, suffering and scandal. John had once slipped and fell, and was laying unconscious when Paul found him in the room. Ringo drank himself sick and Brian Epstein was able to take his own key to enter the room to tend to the sick drummer. Paul had a wild nightmare, which caused the other three to run into McCartney’s room to their distressed friends aide. Even George needed help when he took too many pills by mistake and Ringo helped him puke them up so he wouldn’t have to go to hospital.
Thankfully this wasn't such an emergency but still important. George couldn’t be out gallivanting about especially in a restaurant without being properly shaved and groomed. The band had to look proper, even when not on tour. Their manager was quite stern on the matter and the four Beatles trusted Mister Epstein devotedly, which led to their success. Seldom do any of these men defy such orders. George hated doing so, but he really didn’t have much choice. Now a lucky fan saw him in such a rare state, thankfully she didn’t have a camera!
Leaving the elevator George debated on whether he would wake his friends or simply slip in and exchange bags. Walking down the corridor he concluded he would knock on the door of his other two bandmates, just loud enough to be noticed if either were awake. He would only use the key if he received no response. This was no big deal really. Between the four of them luggage was mixed up all the time. He honestly felt this action wasn’t even worth bringing up to his friends because they wouldn’t usually care. He was slipping in the room while they were asleep to exchange a bag. No big deal at all! They trusted one another of course!
As the youngest Beatle approached the door, he stopped for a second. John hated being woken up and Paul often follow John’s lead. This risking a confrontation early in the morning. Something George just hated. He also didn’t want Lennon to make a scene and embarrass him so. The only awake Beatle just wanted to get something to eat and a hot cup of coffee in him. Sighing heavily, as Harrison prepared for the possible drama his action would cause, he knocked in the manner he intended. Waiting a good minute he received no response. With another sigh, just as heavy as before he knocked a second time, he awkwardly anticipated what he had to do.
Even though this action was common it didn’t make entering another’s room uninvited any less strange. Resolving the likelihood that his friends we’re asleep, he begrudgingly pulled out the key and used it to violate his friends personal space. Sheepishly invading their privacy, he kept his head down in his act of shame. With his eyes locked to the floor, George committed himself, to just look for his bag to exchange with Paul’s and leave. It wasn’t long until he found what he was looking for near the bed by the door. Glad to be nearly done, he put Paul’s bag down and quickly received his own by the handle, off the floor and to his side. Standing straight up, he instinctively looked across the room and dropped his bag in utter surprise.
There before him was an empty bed and after that were his two bandmates laying together in the bed by the window. John’s head was resting peacefully upon Paul’s chest, with Paul’s arms clearly holding John in place. Their clothing was scattered about carelessly across the floor. It didn't take much for George to comprehend that this was more than two friends sleeping off a night of drinking. The sound of the twin toiletry bag landing on the floor was enough to startle McCartney, who opened his eyes immediately. At first the waking man didn’t believe his own eyes. In the hopes that there really was magic to his fingers, Paul rubbed his eyes, in hopes to make George disappear. Alsa his bandmate was still there and there was no explanation for what Harrison just saw except the truth.
The two men locked eyes, both afraid to speak. George clumsily reached for his bag again, nearly dropping it a second time, walked backwards towards the door, while never breaking eye contact with Paul. As soon as he reached the barrier, he felt his way to the door knob and hastily exited the room. Once freed from McCartney’s sight, he closed the door behind him, then suddenly George found himself surrounded by blackness for a second, while falling downward towards the floor. Gracefully he landed on his knees, in which his vision instantly returned. The young man was shaken to his core, he couldn’t believe what he had just seen. He wasn’t there long before George felt someone’s hand on his shoulder.
Startled, he looked to find Paul in just his housecoat, standing behind him. Harrison could see both concern and fear in his face. Paul reached his hand out to help his fallen friend. The youngest Beatle first stared at the limb, unsure of what to do. Then reluctantly the lead guitarist accepted the nurturing kindness of his friend. Rising up, the shocked man realized he was not at all stable on his feet. He was forced to rely on McCartney’s assistance. In which, much to George’s dismay, the bassist guided the weakened man back into the very room in which he so quickly left.
John was wide awake, wearing his housecoat over his nude body. His hair was wild and unkept as he paced around the room like a caged ferocious animal. Their clothing was no longer on the floor and the bed by the door had been deliberately messed up more as to look slept in. John’s eyes were wild, as he walked in a frenzy in every corner of the room. Paul was still helping George walk, bringing him to the untouched green chair closest to the door. The young man was so flustered he dropped his toiletry bag in front of him, near where he had retrieved it without noticing it.
“What the hell were you doing in our room uninvited!” Lennon demanded to know. George clung to the arms of the chair, trying to maintain his composure. John was furious with him and he couldn’t find the words to explain.
“Give him a minute!” Paul interjected. “He’s clearly in shock.” Affectionately Paul rubbed George’s shoulders, to try to calm him down.
“My bag.” George said softly, his voice breaking with shock and fear. John’s anger frightened him and the shock seeing the two together combined was just too much. Paul looked down and noticed the two toiletry bags and figured out what happened.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” George said in a daze. He sounded like a little boy cornered by a schoolyard bully. Paul looked up at John who was frantically digging his fingers through his hair.
“You can’t be angry with him for this!” Paul said standing up for George. “He was just exchanging our mixed up bags. It’s something we all do.”
“We all knock before entering another’s room!” Argued John.
“We were sleeping, we wouldn’t have heard him!” Paul protested.
“I did knock!” exclaimed George. “You were both asleep. I thought you’d be mad if I woke you.” This freaked Lennon out, who was violently pulling at his hair, feeling like the floor to his castle was collapsing inward. Paul ran to his lovers aide and tried to comfort him, but John feeling exposed pushed him away.
“Not in front of him Mac!” the oldest man in the room said angrily.
“Its okay John!” George suddenly spoke up. “Let Paul go to you. You clearly need him!”
“Fuck you!” John said angrily convinced George was mocking him.
“That’s enough John!” Paul scolded.
“I mean it!” said George, finding his nerve but not angry himself. “Paul clearly makes you happy and can calm you down. Let him do it!” The shocked man rubbed his head. It was too early for this drama, he hadn’t even had caffeine yet. “Look, we accept Brian, why do you think Ringo and I wouldn’t accept you?” John and Paul locked eyes as George said those words, Lennon holding back tears, Paul instantly ran to him and held his lover openly in front of their friend. Seeing his friends distraught, George found himself walking over to the two men embracing. Johns face buried in Paul’s shoulder as Paul looked up watching George’s every move.
McCartney’s face reminded the youngest man of a mother animal guarding her young from predators. He cautiously approached and laid his hand on Lennon’s back as passively as he could.
“I love you guys “ he told them both. “You don’t need to hide this from Ringo and I.” As he said this tears glided down Paul’s face. The two men embracing one another opened their link and welcome their friend inside the hug. George stepped in with both arms over his two friends.
Outside the warm sun melted the snow, but not for long as a cold front was coming, so would come the ice, but for the moment warmth prevailed.