TOILET OF NO ESCAPE

My name is Bill, and I drive cars for a living.  I had dropped off a company car in Chattanooga, then rented a car and pointed it south for Florida.  I was picking up a personally owned car in Ocala, FL, then taking it out to Pismo Beach, CA.  

As I got nearer to Ocala, I received a text from my old friend Chico, who I grew up with in Birmingham. Now he was married with children living in Silver Springs, just adjacent to Ocala.  His name was Paul, but everyone called him Chico, the nickname he got in our high school Spanish class.  He had adopted the name Chico and that's what everybody called him.  He texted to tell me he'd meet me soon at Budget rental car in Ocala.  Then he'd drive me to my pick up ten miles away.  He wanted to know if I had time for lunch.

A bad car accident on Interstate 75 slowed me down quite a bit, and by the time I reached Ocala I was on the verge of being late.  I always pride myself on being early, and didn't want there to be any chance that I'd make Chico wait on me.  I pulled into the Budget in Ocala, which was obviously a converted gas station from a past life.

I got my backpack and my paperwork out after I parked, and walked inside Budget.  There was a huge man sitting on a stool behind the counter.  "You picking up a car?" he asked.

"No, I'm bringing you one."

"Bringing me one?"

"Yep, all the way from Tennessee."

"Tennessee?"

"Yes sir."  

"Woo-hoo, I just love them Tennessee cars.  Old Jimbo will take good care of you."

I smiled and nodded, handing him my rental agreement.  Jimbo looked to be north of 350 lbs, and the stool he was sitting on was completely enveloped by his body.  "I filled it up with gas," I told him.

"Filled it to the hilt?"

"I filled it with as much gas as it could take."

"So right on up to the tippy top."

"Uh, yes sir.  By the way, a friend of mine is supposed to come pick me up here."

Jimbo dropped my rental agreement and just stared at me.  "And?"

"And nothing, just wondered if you'd see anyone wandering around."

"If I saw someone lurking around this property, my first call would be to the Ocala PD."

"Oh no, Chico wouldn't cause any harm."

"As far as you know," said Jimbo.

"No, Chico is --

Jimbo interrupted.  "Chico, you say.  Sounds like one of them Mexicans."

"No you misunderstand, he's--"  This time, I was interrupted by my cell phone ringing.  It was Chico, and I answered immediately.  "Hey buddy, where are you?"

"I'm stuck in the restroom."

"Don't worry buddy, with my stomach troubles sometimes I can't leave the bathroom either."

"Can you help me?"

"Help you how?  I can wait for you here as long as it takes."

"I am here, Bill."

"Here at Budget?"

"Yes, I went to their restroom to pee, and now I'm trapped in the toilet.  The door is sealed tight and won't open."

"Don't panic, I'm coming to your rescue."  

I started out the door, and Jimbo said "Hey partner, we ain't done yet."

"I'll be right back, my friend is locked in your restroom."

"The Mexican?"

"He's not Mex--"

"Ain't no lock on the restroom door, but it does stick shut real bad.  You're gonna have fun trying to get him out."

As I walked out, I saw a very odd looking man standing in the parking lot, watching me intently.  I say odd because he was wearing a white turban and a red dot on his forehead.  He looked like a villain from an INDIANA JONES movie.  Also, he was crouched over and walking in a serpentine fashion.

The restroom was a small building in the back corner of the parking lot.  I went to the door and knocked.  "Chico, are you there?"

Chico sounded so relieved. "Bill, oh you sure are a sound for sore ears.  I prayed you would come and save me."

"Get back from the door, I'm gonna see if I can get it open."  I began throwing all my weight behind my shoulder and rammed against the door again and again.  It didn't budge, and after ten tries my shoulder was very sore.

"Hey Bill, I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack.  I feel trapped, like I'll never get out."

"Hang on buddy, I will find a way."  I began to kick the door with the bottom of my foot as hard as I possibly could.  After twenty attempts, it didn't seem to be working.  Then I heard something puffing like a freight train coming fast behind me.  

I turned to see Jimbo running at me, and he shouted "Clear the way, coming through."  I dove out of the way and Jimbo ran right into the door.  Not only did it open, but the door came off of its top hinge and Jimbo hit the floor face first.  Chico ran out the door and gave me a hug.  Then we both helped the big man get back on his feet, because it was clear he couldn't do it himself.  Even for the two of us, it was not an easy task.

Jimbo took a long look at Chico and said, "You know, he don't look Mexican to me."

As Chico started to speak to me, I noticed the odd looking man in the parking lot and watched him carefully.  There was something about him that made me very uneasy.

Suddenly, I heard sirens blaring, and two police cars and a SWAT van pulled into the Budget parking lot.  The policemen all came directly to us with their guns drawn.  Jimbo stepped up and asked what they were there for.  They said they had a call that there were terrorists here trying to blow up the restroom with a bomb.  Jimbo was confused, but for me this type of bizarre happening is kind of a daily routine.  Weird people and strange situations are drawn to me, like I'm a magnet.

The man with the turban yelled out, "I call police, I call! They are the terrorists, but I have the bomb."  And with that, he went running off, with the police officers in hot pursuit.

Chico asked me, "Can we get out of here, buddy?"

"Sure, I'd love to buy you lunch."

"First I get locked in the toilet of no escape, and then SWAT shows up looking for terrorists and a bomb.  Not exactly a typical day for you, I'm guessing."

"You know what, Chico.  Days like today have become commonplace for me."

Chico laughed.  "You really ought to write about this adventure."

And so I did.

MILITARY MAYHEM

It was early morning as I headed for my next vehicle pick up just outside Salina, Kansas and I had hitched a ride with a kind farmer I met in the little cafe where I went for breakfast.  He told me I'd have to sit in the bed of the truck with his five dogs, but I happen to love dogs a lot so it was my pleasure.  My boss Riff had told me that I was getting a 4 wheeler Chevy truck and taking it to Boston.  He said the gentleman I was getting it from, Mr. Pyrtle, sounded gentle and accommodating.  That would be a nice change of pace.

 At 8am, the truck dropped me off at the entrance to the Pyrtle compound.  It looked a whole lot to me like a military compound.  As I neared the fortified gate, two snarling Dobermans came running down to me barking and biting the air, seeming to wish it was me they were biting.  I heard a man shout, and the dogs immediately went running back to the house and disappeared inside.  The man who shouted walked to face me through the gate. "Mr. Pyrtle?" I asked.

"I prefer to be called Sarge."  He unlocked four different locks and then opened the gate.  "Follow me, and watch where you step.  You never know when you're gonna come across a booby trap, soldier.  When you are in a war, you must expect the unexpected.  There could be land mines."

"Land mines?" I said with real concern.

"Oh there's none on my property, but I can't speak for outside the perimeter.  Understood?" he bellowed.

"Yes sir!"

"Now I expect you to take very good care of this truck.  I expect it to arrive there in mint condition.  Not a dent, not a ding, not a scratch. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"I have inserted a military grade advanced GPS system in the truck and will be tracking you all the way to Texas.  If you deviate even slightly from the prescribed path, I will call the police and report my truck stolen."

"OK, but I thought that it was going to Boston."

His face turned red.  "What did you say?"

"Boston, up in Massa --"

"I know where Boston is, I served with many fine men who loved the Red Sox, God help them..  Just what are you up to, boy, what are you scheming?"

I shook my head.  "I have no scheme, I'm just here to drive your truck."

"To Texas!  Not to Boston!  But you intended to take it to Boston in spite of my wishes."

"No."

"No what?"

"No sir, Sarge."

His eyes became slits of suspicion.  "I think you'd better break out some ID, soldier."  I fumbled to get my Alabama driver's license out and handed it to him.  As he looked it over, he pulled a 9mm Glock that had been tucked in his belt from behind his back.  "We are gonna get to the bottom of this real fast."

Quickly, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket.  "If I could just call my boss real quick --"  He knocked my cell phone out of my hands and it fell to the ground.  "I am not your enemy, Sarge."

"That remains to be seen, Private."  The Sarge closed his eyes and began humming.  Then he began walking around in small circles while mumbling to himself.  "This is how its gonna go.  I will go into the house and call your boss and find out what kind of FUBAR is going on.  And you, you will stay put or I will release my dogs and they will rip you apart.  Do you believe me?"

"Yes sir, Sarge."

"It's important that you believe that they can do it.  Stay right here."  The Sarge marched purposefully up to the house.  I stood my ground.  Ten minutes later, a haggard looking woman came out of the house and walked cautiously towards me.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Bill Thomas, I'm the driver."

"No, I mean who are you really.  Sarge says you're the underworld element.  But whoever you are, I ain't lost all my manners.  Welcome, I'm Lulu Pyrtle and the Sarge is my husband.  He don't mean nothing, you know."

"War can be tough on a man, I'm sure."

She stared at me incredulously.  "You think the Sarge fought in a war?  No, no, he wanted to but got refused on the medical part because of mental unbalance or some such.  Sarge is the most mentally smart man  I know, and he will be ready when the commies come knocking at our door."

"I see," I said.

"The compound is secure, and we are ready to send those commies rushing back to Russia.  You say 'I See' but do you really?  Not everyone understands the Sarge. Goodness me, where are my manners, can I get you something to drink?"

"No, but thank you very much."

"Are you sure?  It's really no problem."  Right then, the Sarge came marching back at a quicker clip than before, and now he was carrying a rifle.  I felt a cold chill run up my spine.

"Your story checks out, Private.  Hey Lulu, are you offering aid to a potential enemy?  Get back in the house now and check on that thing."

She smiled.  "Oh, you mean the --"

He quickly interrupted her with a harsh "Shhhh!  Go, now!"  She hung her head, defeated, and walked as fast as she could back to the house.  The Sarge eyed me closely.  "Did she tell you anything?"

"About what?" I asked.

"Anything about anything?"

"No Sarge, she just offered me a drink."

He looked down and shook his head sadly.  "God bless her, that woman is too kind for her own good.  Someday when the enemies storm our gates, they will take advantage of her weaknesses.  Now before I send you off with my truck, I'm going over it with a fine tooth comb.  Let's get a move on, Private!"

For the next hour, we examined the truck more thoroughly than I ever have with any vehicle.  While we looked, the Sarge asked my views on some very politically charged questions.  This felt like the minefield he had warned me about, and I kept my answers brief and very dumb so as not to set him off.  As I climbed into the truck to leave, the Sarge snapped to attention and saluted me.  "You are a brave soldier, I would love to ride your ass in basic training and see what kind of officer you'd make in the U.S. military.  Godspeed to you, Private.  Are we clear?"

"Yes sir, very clear."  I left and drove much faster than usual, wanting to put as much distance as I could between us.  My cell phone rang, and I heard my boss Riff giggling on the line.  

"How was the pickup from Mr. Pyrtle?"

"Terrible Riff, the man was wacko.  And it didn't help when I told him I was driving his truck to Boston.  Did you know it was going to Texas?"

Riff's laughter grew heartier.  "Of course I knew, I was having a little fun with you.  He sounded like an oddball on the phone, so I gave you misinformation to see how he'd react."

"I'll tell you how, he reacted by pulling a gun on me!"

Riff responded with a chortle.  "Oh I would have loved to have seen that.  Priceless."

"I'm doing a job here, do not play with me or put my life in danger!"  I hung up my cell phone and replayed what had just happened at the compound.  One thing is for sure, I pity the commies who decide to make an assault on Sarge's home base.

.

 

WICKED THE MUSICAL CONFUSION

 Driving and delivering cars all over this great country affords me possibilities to do some fun and adventuresome things.  The problem is always being able to plan ahead, which is mission impossible on this job.

Ever since I got to see my first Broadway show THE PRODUCERS in 2004, I craved more musical theatre.  And the show that sparked my deepest interest was called WICKED, all about what happened before Dorothy came to OZ.  Unfortunately, it has been well over a decade since I have delivered a car to Manhattan, and I knew the show wouldn't go on forever.  As of 2022, it is still going strong on Broadway, but my chances of getting to New York didn't seem to be improving.

Two months ago, I got a car to take from Phoenix to Tampa, Fl.  The catch was that I'd have to stay in Tampa over the weekend, so I could pick up another car Monday and drive it to Chicago.  I looked on the internet for events in Tampa, and to my surprise WICKED was playing there on tour.  Four more days and it would be gone.

I called the box office as I drove east towards Florida, trying to get a hold of someone but just leaving voicemail messages pleading for a seat if one was available.  I said I was determined to see this play before I die.  The very next day, I got a call from a lovely girl named Erin in the venue's administration offices.  She said she was moved by my call, as were several other people in her office, and if I could afford $100, she would get me a seat for the Sunday matinee.  I jumped at the chance, I was over the moon!

Once I had delivered the car in Tampa on Saturday morning, I got a motel room and basically was killing time until the big show on Sunday..  I had picked a motel not too far from the theatre so that I could make it an affordable Uber ride.

I got to the theatre, and was amazed by what I saw in the lobby.  Lots of people dressed in Emerald green.  Munchkins.  Denizens of the city of OZ.  I have always been a fan of THE WIZARD OF OZ, and anything related to it.  The idea of this play seemed to focus on the true friendship of Glinda the Good Witch and Elphaba the Wicked Witch.  

My ticket had been waiting at the Will Call table, and I found my seat was dead center in the back row of orchestra.  Which means I had a great view of the entire stage.  Ten minutes before the show was to begin, a man scooted quickly down my row and said, "Are you Bill?"

I smiled.  "Yes, I'm Bill."

"Hi, I'm Rich, the stage manager of our touring production of WICKED, and we all just wanted to welcome you today specially."

"Wow, really?  That's...something."

He handed me an envelope.  "A little gift to remember the day by."

I opened the envelope and found a Playbill program.  Every single page was covered with signatures.  "What is this?"

"The entire cast and crew signed that for you, Bill.  And they asked me to tell you that today's performance is dedicated to you.  We all think you're very special."  He nodded and excused himself.  I looked down at the program, and read notes like, "You are an inspiration," and "we believe in you."  

Moments later, another man came scooting down the aisle.  "Bill?  Are you Bill?"

"Yes."

He reached his hand out to shake mine.  "I'm Bradley, the house manager, and I just wanted to personally welcome you here today.  It's a real honor to have you here."

"Bradley, I appreciate all the attention, but I have to ask... why me?"

Bradley winked at me.  "Don't be so modest."  He turned and moved away.  Two older women in front of me had been chattering, and they suddenly turned to me.

"Who are you?" one of them asked.

"No one."

"No sir, you are someone, else they wouldn't be catering to you."

"Well I'm a writer.  I wrote a book."

"I'd like to read that book!"

It just so happens I always carry a few copies of my books with me wherever I go.  Because you never know.  I handed her a copy and said, "My gift to you ladies."

They both stared at me like I was dense.  "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Like what?"

"Your autograph.  To my good friend Jessica and Kristine, thanks for all you did."

I signed my book, and the show began.  And what a show it was.  It exceeded my wildest expectations, and I kept feeling a profound sense of gratitude for being there.

After the show was over, I was headed for an exit so I could catch my Uber to the motel.  I heard a voice behind me "Mr. Williams.  Mr. Williams."  It kept getting louder and closer, but it couldn't be meant for me.  I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Bradley.  "Mr. Williams."

"Bill."

"Sorry, Bill.  I just wanted to see if you enjoyed the show?"

"Well that would be severe understatement.  It was one of the most entertaining experiences of my life"

"We are just so glad you could make it.  And hey, PRETTY WOMAN THE MUSICAL is coming here in the Fall, and we'd love to see if you're still around."  We shook hands again and I left.

Monday morning I got the car and was just headed north when my cell phone rang.  I answered, and it was Erin from the theatre.  "Hello, Bill?"

"Erin, I owe you so much.  I not only got to see this great show, but I was treated like royalty.  It was incredible, and I don't know what I did to deserve it, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."

"Bill...I don't know how to tell you this.  There was a miscommunication."

"How so?"

"There was a man with a brain tumor whose last wish was to see WICKED.  His name was Bill Williams, and he was to be seated next to you.  When he didn't show up, everyone assumed you were him."

"So the signed program was for him.  The show that day was dedicated to him."

"I'm afraid so."

"I just feel guilty as crap, those things weren't meant for me.  I will return the program and..."

"No, no," Erin urged.  "Please don't do that.  We discussed it here in the office and decided that there is no reason to inform the cast and crew.  It would be an unnecessary popping of a feel-good balloon."

"Got it.  Well, hopefully Bill Williams will get another chance to see the show."

"No sir, he...  I'm going to have to let you go now.  Thank you Bill.

Sad to hear that the Bill I was mistaken for will never get to see the show.  But perhaps I enjoyed it enough for the two of us and can share that with him cosmically.

UBER THE CUCKOO'S NEST

 My name is Bill Thomas, and I drive cars for a living.  All over the USA, for busy executives, snowbirds, anyone who wants me to drive their car and deliver it anywhere in the lower 48 in an expedited fashion.  It was a cold morning in Cleveland, Ohio, and the address I had delivered to this morning was not exactly the shining gem of the city.  I was actually a little bit scared, and definitely wary.

Once I drop off a car, I have to get to the next pick up.  Sometimes it will be in the same city or nearby, but more often than not it's another city or another state.  I've gotten very good at finding the best and cheapest modes of transport, whether its plane, train, or rental automobile.  The trick used to be finding a city bus route to get from the drop off point to the transportation center.  Thank goodness Uber was created, it makes my getting around much easier.

I was waiting in the chilly morning hours for my Uber to come and take me to the Cleveland Amtrak station.  There I would catch a train to Chicago, where my next pick up was waiting.  The Uber was taking longer than usual, and almost double the ETA that appeared on the Uber App.

Five minutes later, a rusty old pickup truck pulled up and I saw a very elderly man inside.  He rolled down the passenger window and said  "I'm your ride, get in."

I always introduce myself so I know I have the right driver and the right car.  "I'm Bill."

"I don't care," he said as I climbed in.  He stared at me with a steely gaze and said, "My name is Jocko.  I'm 94 years old and I have a bad case of hemorrhoids.  So now you know."  He stepped on the gas so hard that my head snapped back and bounced off the head rest.

"I didn't know Uber hired drivers over 90."

"They don't.  My old pal Bobby made me a fake ID that says I am 70 years old.  Would you believe me if I told you I was 70?"

I looked at his wrinkled, weathered skin and his toothless grin, then replied, "I'm not good at guessing ages."

"Well, I fooled Uber, and I fooled you too."

"I'm headed to the Amtrak station."

"In what city?"

"Cleveland."

"Cleveland?  There ain't no Amtrak station in Cleveland."

I was perplexed.  I had a train ticket in my pocket from Cleveland to Chicago.  "Can you just take me to the address I entered?"

"OK, hot shot, I'll take you to that address, but you won't find Amtrak there.  And by the way, what are we going to do about all these damn aliens?"

Fearing this would open up a political conversation, I cautiously asked, "You mean illegal immigrants?"

"What?  No!  I mean the aliens from outer space who walk among us.  And fly over us in big white balloons."

"I think that was China."

"No, boy, China is another country but its here on earth.  I'm talking about Unusual Flying Objects from another planet.  You need to be better informed.  By the way, I saw a good movie the other day.  Something about crashing into a cuckoo's nest."

"One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest?"

"That don't sound right.  This was a movie about a big giant Indian man, who could not speak or hear anything.  He just pushed a broom around the mental hospital.  Then one day, he decided to just leave, so he tore a huge water fountain out of the floor, and threw it at the window.  Then he jumped out and ran away.  The end."

"I've seen that movie.  A lot of other stuff happens besides that."

"Oh, I know, I know.  I loved that little shrimp guy who wants always betting quarters and silver dollars."

"He bet a dime, then he bet a nickel."

"Yep, he was a funny little guy, that Screwdriver."

"His name, was Martini."

"No, that don't sound right.  Where did they find that little dwarf who played Screwdriver, he was hilarious."

"He's not a dwarf, he's just short.  His name is Danny DeVito."

"And after that movie, he was never heard from again."

I decided it would be foolhardy to debate this.  "How far are we from my destination."

"Dammit, I told you there's no Amtrak station in Cleveland.  And I -- wait, did you see that?"

"See what?" I asked.

"It was here, then it was gone."

"What was?"

"Mind your own business, that's what.  Do you ever think about suicide?"

What a crazy segue.  "No, not really."

"I do.  A lot.  I mean I don't want to live to be 100, am I right?"

"Well, as long as you're happy."

"But that's just it.  I'm never happy, not ever.  Sometimes when I'm driving on one of those big high overpasses, I'm tempted to crash through the guard rail and sail to my death."

 Now I was officially alarmed.  "Listen Jocko --"

He got very agitated.  "Who said you could call me that?  Don't you ever use my name without permission.  You got that?"

"Yes sir."

"I think you flew out of that cuckoo's nest."

"I just want a quiet, peaceful ride sir."

Jocko slammed on the brakes, and we were nearly rear ended.  "Get out."

"Beg your pardon?"

He was growling.  "I said get out, and I mean now!  You are making me uncomfortable, and I don't want you in my truck anymore.  And neither does my dead wife Naomi.  She would not have liked you one bit.  Now get out, before I call the police and report you."

I climbed out of the car and he took off, his tires kicking up gravel that sprayed me.  I've taken a lot of Uber rides with a lot of different drivers, but none like this one.  I ordered another Uber, and it came quickly and took me to my address.  And to my delight, there was an Amtrak station there.  I am sure if Jocko had finished my ride he would have been furious to find there was a station here when he was so certain there was not.  Riding with Jocko, I felt I had been Uber the cuckoo's nest.

 

STAR WARS SALLY

"You don't want an answer to that question," growled my boss Riff. 

"Yes I really do." 

"The customer complaints about you are piling up. You are such an idiot I don't know how you even comb your hair in the morning." 

"My hair?" 

"Yes your hair, that covers your empty head."

"I'm pulling off in Tallahassee now, speak to you later." 

"I'm not done yet!" he shouted as I was hanging up my phone.

I had driven this car from Dallas, and it was due just outside of Tallahassee the next morning. By chance, my old buddy John Hazzard was on business in town, and asked me to pick him up downtown. I was due to arrive there at 2pm, and still had ten minutes to spare. I pulled up to the curb near the old Florida movie theater downtown. Which is no longer open for business. There was John, easy to spot in his usual dapper dress code and carrying a briefcase. "Bill old boy, how in the hell are you? You're looking well." 

"Feeling great. What brings you to Tallahassee?" 

"Business. And a transactional possibilty for you." 

"What kind of proposition?" I asked warily. 

"I had lunch with my wealthiest client Miss Saloman today, and she was asking about you." 

"Her? Again? What is this obssession she has with me?" 

"She thinks you are adorable, and said she can't wait to get you into a Star Wars stormtrooper uniform." 

I shook my head. "She wants what?" 

"Miss Saloman is deep into cosplay, where a group of people dress like they live in the Star Wars universe. She wants you in the assless stormtrooper outfit." 

"Assless?" 

 "Yes, like assless chaps, your bare bottom is exposed for all to see." 

"But why?" 

John laughed. "The better to paddle your bare bottom." 

I was shocked. "Come on, you have to be kidding me." 

"She said she really wants to Yoda you good." 

"She wants to Yoda me?" 

"You know Bill, you don't have to repeat everything I say." 

I felt light headed. "I just want to be sure I'm understanding you correctly." 

"The proposition is for you to move in to a little cottage she has in the backyard. And she will take care of all your needs, and in turn you will do whatever she asks anytime." 

"You have got to be joshing me." 

"Nope, she is dead serious. In fact, she is already working to persuade you to move in." 

My eyes turned into suspicious slits. "Persuade me how?" 

"She said she has been using a Jedi mind trick on you every day in an attempt to make you move in, whether you want to or not." 

"Tell her I'm not interested."

John rubbed his hands together with eager anticipation. "She's not just going away. She is very determined. She says she has more sex toys than Luke Skywalker. And more devious plans for you than that evil Emperor ever dreamed of." 

"Okay, that's enough." 

"She said she wants to Chewbacca you real good. She want to give you a Force push." 

"Stop! Please!" 

"Why the hesitation, Bill? You've always been the biggest Star Wars fan I've ever known. So you have a base foundation for a relationship." 

"Relationship? Oh no, no, no." 

"You'd be a kept man." 

"I don't want to be kept, not by anyone. But if you think we have some kind of Star Wars connection, you are sorely mistaken. In fact it sounds like she is talking about a completely different universe that the Star Wars galaxy.. She is bastardizing everything I love about those movies." 

"I thought you were open minded." 

"This isn't Star Wars, its sex games in outer space. I'm not interested, nor will I ever be interested in this unsavory proposition. You can tell that to Sally for me if she brings it up again." 

"Sally?" 

"It's what I call Miss Saloman. Silly Sally." 

John chuckled. "Silly Sally?"  

"Yes, but I am officially changing it to Star Wars Sally." 

John shook his head aggressively. "Oh no, she will not like that nickname." 

I started squirming restlessly in my seat. "That's the whole point, I don't care that she won't like it. I don't care, I just don't care." 

John pointed ahead of us and said, "Pull into the next shopping center, there's a bar there and I think we need a drink." 

I pulled in and parked. "John, I appreciate you bringing the opportunity to my attention. But I am definitely not interested. You seriously think I should even give this consideration?" 

"Yes." 

"To live in her backyard and acting as her Cabana boy." 

"Yes sir." 

"And be at her beckon call?" 

"Why not?" 

"And cry on the inside while she tries to turn my beloved Star Wars into some type of sordid porno game thing?" 

"Whatever gets you through the night." John opened his door and began to climb out. 

"So this is no joke and there's an actual offer on the table." 

"The offer is dead serious, no joke." 

"And your best advice as my friend is that I give in to her wishes and become her play toy? You've got to be pulling my leg." 

John peered over the roof of my car at me. "Right out of the socket."

BROADWAY REOPENS

After the pandemic shut down so many places we all love to go, it was heartening to see that Broadway is back open for business.  And it took me back to my adventure seeing my first Broadway show.

Mel Brooks' THE PRODUCERS is one of my all time favorite movies.  When I heard they were making it into a musical, my heart sank, for I felt that they would spoil the magic of the original movie.  Then in 2003, my friend Justin bought me the CD of the Broadway soundtrack, and I found myself driving cars around the country singing along gleefully.  By this time Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick had left the show, but I doubted I'd ever get the chance to see it live.

Then I drove an ambulance to New York City one early April day in 2004, and was supposed to pick up a limosine to drive back to Atlanta.  But when I arrived in NYC, I called and was told the limo wouldn't be ready to go until 11pm that night.  I had just read that Lane and Broderick had returned for a limited 3 month run in the show, and that run would be ending in a few days.  So I decided to try to go see it, and made my way up to the St. James theatre on 44th St.

I arrived to find a long line down the street and around the corner.  It was a Saturday, and I assumed they were waiting to get in to be seated for the matinee show.  As I walked down the line to find out where it ended, a dirty, smelly little man jumped into my path.  "Tickets here.  You want to see the show?"

"Are you selling them?" I asked.

"If you got cash I am."

"Are they good seats?"

"Are they good seats, he asks.  Back row balcony, only the best.  $500."

"That's a little steep for me.  Maybe I'll get on the cancellation list, for after this line of people goes in."

The little man laughed at me.  "Buddy, this line is for people waiting for any possible cancellations for this show.  Are you ignorant or pathetic or both?  You must be from the South."  He stormed off as if he was disgusted with me.  I looked at my watch, and it was one hour until showtime.  Damn!

As I walked back towards the entrance of the theatre, I heard a voice call out loudly "Bill!"  I knew that they couldn't be calling me, because I don't know a soul in Manhattan.  "Bill!  Bill Thomas, is that you?"

I turned around and was stunned.  "Kim?  Kim Mayer?"

"Hi Bill."  She gave me a big bear hug.  I hadn't seen her since college, where we were very close friends.  I had still been sending her a Christmas card to her parents' house each year.  

"I appreciated all the Christmas cards, you never forget me.  And you write the sweetest things.  You were always a good friend.  So what are you doing in my neighborhood?"

"Trying to see a Broadway show."

"Not this one, I hope."

"Why, isn't it any good?  Have you seen it?"

"Oh it's great, that's the problem.  Everyone wants to see it.  But yes I've seen it many times.  I'm the assistant manager here at the St. James."

"Since when?"

"Since five years ago.  But what are you doing now?  My guess was always that you'd be a famous writer by now."

"I drive cars around the USA for busy executives who don't have time to. But I do still write.  The last screenplay I wrote was inspired by this musical."

A voice called out her name.  "I have to run inside, can you wait here a few?"

"I have nowhere to be."  She ran into the lobby of the theatre, and I was once again enchanted by this lovely African American woman that I had a crush on all through college.  She only saw me as a brother, and I had to watch as she had many misbegotten trysts with other guys who only hurt her.  I was the one she came to when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

Ten minutes later, she was back.  "Hate to say it, but you picked a bad time to come.  Nathan and Matthew are back for a limited engagement, and this is their last week."

"So I heard."

"Everyone wants to see them, and I can't blame them.  These two guys have a magical chemistry."

"Well, I figured if I was going to see my first Broadway show, it should be this."

"Wait a sec, are you telling me you've never seen a show on Broadway before?  Ever?"

"Never.  To tell you the truth, I was reluctant about this musical because I'm so in love with the original movie version.  But a friend gave me the Broadway CD, and I've been listening to it over and over for months while I drive."

"Catchy songs, huh?  Listen, I'm about to get real busy until the matinee starts.  Can you hang out until then, we can talk more freely."

"Will you keep me in mind if a ticket comes available?"

"Baby, I don't want to burst your bubble, but this show is sold out, and I'm about to have to tell that line of over 100 folks that they are out of luck."

"OK, I'll just wait here for you."  I walked up and down the block, looking at the Majestic theatre where THE MUSIC MAN originally appeared in 1957.  And Sardis, a famous restaurant that celebrities frequent.  

Just under an hour later, the line had disappeared and Kim walked back out to see me.  "So what do you think of Broadway so far?"

"Exciting.  Vibrant.  And since I'm here anyway, I should get tickets for another show.  Any good suggestions?"

Kim crooked her finger and wiggled it for me to follow her.  "Come with me."  She led me into the lobby where I saw an elderly lady sitting in the box office.  "Ruth, this is one of my oldest friends, Bill Thomas.  Do we have anything for him at tonight's show?"

"One seat, front row mezzanine.  You want it?"

"Do I -- of course I want it!  How much?"

"Nope, you are my guest tonight," Kim said with finality.

Ruth handed me the ticket and said, "These go for 100 bucks and are very hard to come by."

"I am extremely grateful to you, Ruth.  And to you, dear sweet Kim."

"Cut the corny crap and thank me by bringing me back a sandwich and a brownie.  Now go see the city, but be back by 7:30, the show starts at 8pm sharp."

"I will, I'll be here."  I spent the day seeing New York for the first time, visiting landmarks and museums and finding my way around.  I had been in the city once before, but it was to visit a friend at the World Trade Center the day before 9-11.  There was no time on that trip for any leisure, it was all business.  And then my friend perished in the towers the very next day.

I arrived back to the St. James at 7:20, and found Kim easily.  I gave her a bag with a sandwich made on a croissant, two brownies, a sweet bun, and some doughnut holes.  She squealed with delight, because apparently the place I chose to purchase the food from was one of her favorite spots.  "Are you ready for a real experience?"

"I feel like the King of old Broadway," I answered, quoting a line from one the show's songs.  Kim passed me off to Judy, the head Usher, who took me upstairs to my seat.  Judy kept on glancing at me oddly, as if she recognized me.  

"You could be up on the stage tonight.  You look a lot like Max Bialystock."  I was flattered beyond belief.

"I know all the songs by heart," I proudly told her.  "I will have trouble resisting singing along during the show."

Judy's face grew suddenly solemn.  "Don't do that.  Please don't do that."  I could see she took me seriously.

I gave her my best humble, obedient look and said, "I won't.  I promise."

When the overture started, I had butterflies in my stomach.  This show I had dreamed about as I listened to the soundtrack was coming to life for me, and was so much better than I had possibly imagined.  Lane and Broderick were hilarious, and played off each other brilliantly.  Gary Beach was a scream as overtly gay director Roger De Bris, prancing and mincing like a real trooper.  The main production number was SPRINGTIME FOR HITLER, which is done up big and splashy.  I wanted to belt out the lyrics in unison with the cast so many times, but controlled myself.

After the show, I sought out Kim, and I grabbed her in a hug and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around.  She laughed with glee, and asked how I liked the show.

"Words can't describe.  It was one of the greatest show pieces of entertainment I have ever seen in my life.  And I have you to thank for making this happen."

"Bill, the smile on your face makes it all worthwhile to me.  I love bringing people joy."

"Well you sure brought a barrel full of it tonight for me.  Thank you again and again."

I got her current address and promised to stay in touch.  She said I am one of the only people she knows who actually follows through on that promise.  I felt a flutter in my heart when I hugged her for the last time, remnants of the longtime crush I'd had on her.

But one thing that show really reminded me of.  My goal, my destiny.  I wanna be a Producer!

 

SAVE MY BABY!

 It was New Years Eve, and I was once again surprised by the amount of people that I deliver cars to who choose to take delivery on a holiday.  Their plans are often in flux, and I find myself running all over the place.  This year, it was Wichita, Kansas.

I had spoken to Miss Bellows on the phone, and she said she would be very busy with the birthday party but there would be a slice of cake for me.  This was a red flag for me, because I like to drop off a car and go, not get caught up in the personal lives of my customers.

I was told to arrive at 4pm sharp, and no sooner had I parked and got out before I heard her shouting frantically and urgently.  I came around the side of the house, I saw the most elaborate birthday decorations ever.  At least, in my personal experience.  There were six Papillon dogs all jumping around Miss Bellows, each wearing a party hat and a tutu.  Miss Bellows, a rather rotund woman, was not handling the hectic pace well, although the sad looking man cooking on the grill seemed completely unaffected.

"Hi, I'm Bill Thomas," I said.  "I have your new car here for you."

"Thank God you made it, the boys were afraid that you wouldn't make it for the party." she said.  She seemed kinda peppy, kinda goofy.

"Oh, I can't stay."

"Lucky," I heard the grill man murmur.

"Now I'm gonna have to insist, we have burgers on the grill, there's cake and ice cream.  Right, Jimmy?"

Jimmy nodded glumly at the grill.  "Whatever you say."

"Cheer up Jimmy, it's a party!" she exclaimed.

"And I am thrilled to be here," he said with no conviction.

"Mr. Bill, the birthday boy is Rover, then there's Fido, Spot, Buck, Freckles and Spike."

I smiled and nodded in their direction.  "Nice to make your acquaintance."

"Don't be so sure," mumbled Jimmy.

I needed to get a move on, but didn't want to be impolite.  "If you can just sign my paperwork, I'll get out of your hair."

She put her hands on her hips.  "You are not in my hair.  And if you were, I'd be glad to have you.  Now the gift table is over there, if you have something to honor Rover."

"Run, while you still can," muttered Jimmy to me.

Miss Bellows scooped up Rover and came over to me.  "Mr. Bill, would you hold the birthday boy for me so I can get some pictures?"  She handed me Rover then put a party hat on my head, rubber band under my chin.

"I mean, I guess so."  I looked at the backyard, and it was lush and beautiful.  Right in the middle of it was a large swimming pool, and I wondered if it was heated.

"I have to get my Polaroid camera, its inside."  She ran into the house, and Jimmy started talking.

"OK, we don't have much time, so listen up fast.  She is crazy as a bat, she thinks these dogs are kids.  She will drag you into doggie drama then drag you down so far you lose yourself.  No joke buddy, you should go."

"Are you two roommates?"

"Oh God no!  I'm too stupid for that, I went and married the witch."

"Is she a witch?"

"Well, she ain't Samantha on Bewitched, I can tell ya that, bub."

Miss Bellows came out again just as Rover was trying to leap out of my arms.  She began yelling at me, "You're gonna drop him, you're gonna drop him!"  Rover fell from my arms to the ground, and at the same time Jimmy picked up a tennis ball and threw it towards the backyard.  All six dogs went rushing after the ball, but only five stopped when they reached the edge of the pool where the ball landed with a splash.  Followed quickly by a bigger splash, as one of the Papillon landed in the water.  

A blood curdling scream unlike any I have ever heard came from behind me, and Miss Bellows nearly knocked me down rushing towards the pool.  "My baby!  Save my baby!"  She was hysterical, running around in circles waving her arms over her head.  While the pooch was happily doing the dog paddle. "Someone save my baby Freckles."

I walked down to the pool and scooped the little dog up, offering it to the woman.  She squeezed it so tightly.  "He's fine, he's just fine," Jimmy tried to tell her.

"How can you say that?  I nearly lost my baby.  Did you hear that, Freckles?  You were almost an angel crossing over the rainbow bridge.  You could have drown."

Jimmy shook his head.  "He was fine, he knew how to swim just fine."

She looked insulted.  "Don't be ridiculous, none of my dogs have ever had a swimming lesson in their life."

Jimmy looked up towards Heaven.  "OK God, I'm ready.  Because wherever I go, its going to be a whole lot better than this."

I got the paperwork taken care of and headed for my next pick up.  Just out of curiosity, I called a good friend of mine who is a Veterinarian in Texas and asked if there is a special school where you send dogs to learn to swim.  My friend said, "Yep, it's the same school you send cats to so they learn to hunt mice."

HAPPY NEW YEAR