on it as I really did fall back. But then another force pushed me through the door. Whoosh. I was inside. There was a cool staleness to the air. A jukebox with the same unreal colors and quality was off to my right. I'd seen all this before.
With unsteadiness to my feet, I floated to the bar and sat down on the high stool, steadying myself against the surface.
The bartender eyed me from across the bar with an expression that indicated no intention of coming toward me, wiping a glass with a dishtowel.
"Hey, gimme a vodka gimlet!” I finally yelled.
He changed his pose not a hair, of course.
I waited.
Of course I waited. What else was I going to do?
He finally ambled over, filled with that same hostile attitude. People like him made me sick.
"A vodka gimlet? And you mind telling me what I did to deserve this bad service?"
"You got a problem , lady, there's the door,” he said, and slammed down what passed to him for a vodka gimlet.
"That's not made right,” I said.
"Oh it ain't?” He smiled, monstrously.
"No it isn't, and I stress isn't ."
"I ’ve had just about enough of you."
"It's watered down, and it has no green olive in it."
"Green olive?” He laughed, raising his ridiculously heavy, red eyebrows. They looked like two cheese doodles above his eyes, to the point where they actually made me hungry.
"Yes, a green olive. With a red pimento. Very important."
"You gotta be kiddin' me."
"No. Don't you know anything about –"
"It's just not a vodka gimlet without the green olive,” someone said to my right.
"Oh my God, how long have you been sitting there?” I spun around to look at her, praying she would still be there.
She was! With a great big 'hey I gotcha' face.
Krishna , in the mirror across from me, next to the reflections of the very dusty cash register, the bits of cluttered receipts, the wine bottles and the pints of vodka and whiskey. There she was, exotic and Hindu, next to a stunned version of my all-American, blonde self.
"Come with me ." She led me to the restrooms. "Wait till you see what I have."
"How did you…?"
"Look at this," she said, and pulled out a beautiful, gold case that snapped open, decorated on the outside with red and gold and green silk, with tiny scenes printed of tigers and women by the water.
Inside it there was a small , square mirror, a vial of coke, a gold razor blade, and a tiny glass tube. She tapped out a line of the white powder onto the mirror.
"Go ahead .” She gestured, smiling.
"Don't let her sneeze , Krishna!” A voice came from the bathroom stall, and then broke into drunken giggling.
"Is that her in there?” I leaned my head under the stall door.
Unmistakably, boy's pants. No girl would wear them.
"Oh my God! How did you two … did you know I was here?"
Gay bust out of the stall and headed for the coke.
I leaned over the bathroom counter next to the sinks. I grabbed a paper towel after noticing how disgusting it was and wiped down the sink.
"Only Jane would clean the sink in a tavern bathroom," Gay said.
"I'm not putting my face close to that filthy surface."
I leaned over once it was cleaned, snorted the line, conscious the whole time not to sneeze or blow out accidentally. My long, blonde hair touched the surface.
"See , my hair would have touched that filthy sink," I said.
The toilet flushed and Gay came out of the stall , wearing her standard smart-ass expression, and strutted toward the sink to snort another line.
"Freak?” she greeted.
The music began, or rather, the pounding, driving, raucous punk noise.
"The Transistors are playing?” I asked.
They stared at me.
"What?” I asked . "Is that really them?"
"Are you tripping?” Gay asked, and headed out the door into the smoke and amplified buzzing.
Krishna was closing up her case and replacing it into a little black bag with long, thin shoulder straps.
"Oh my God , I'm so wasted,” she remarked, and left me alone in there.
When I went out , they all were
With unsteadiness to my feet, I floated to the bar and sat down on the high stool, steadying myself against the surface.
The bartender eyed me from across the bar with an expression that indicated no intention of coming toward me, wiping a glass with a dishtowel.
"Hey, gimme a vodka gimlet!” I finally yelled.
He changed his pose not a hair, of course.
I waited.
Of course I waited. What else was I going to do?
He finally ambled over, filled with that same hostile attitude. People like him made me sick.
"A vodka gimlet? And you mind telling me what I did to deserve this bad service?"
"You got a problem , lady, there's the door,” he said, and slammed down what passed to him for a vodka gimlet.
"That's not made right,” I said.
"Oh it ain't?” He smiled, monstrously.
"No it isn't, and I stress isn't ."
"I ’ve had just about enough of you."
"It's watered down, and it has no green olive in it."
"Green olive?” He laughed, raising his ridiculously heavy, red eyebrows. They looked like two cheese doodles above his eyes, to the point where they actually made me hungry.
"Yes, a green olive. With a red pimento. Very important."
"You gotta be kiddin' me."
"No. Don't you know anything about –"
"It's just not a vodka gimlet without the green olive,” someone said to my right.
"Oh my God, how long have you been sitting there?” I spun around to look at her, praying she would still be there.
She was! With a great big 'hey I gotcha' face.
Krishna , in the mirror across from me, next to the reflections of the very dusty cash register, the bits of cluttered receipts, the wine bottles and the pints of vodka and whiskey. There she was, exotic and Hindu, next to a stunned version of my all-American, blonde self.
"Come with me ." She led me to the restrooms. "Wait till you see what I have."
"How did you…?"
"Look at this," she said, and pulled out a beautiful, gold case that snapped open, decorated on the outside with red and gold and green silk, with tiny scenes printed of tigers and women by the water.
Inside it there was a small , square mirror, a vial of coke, a gold razor blade, and a tiny glass tube. She tapped out a line of the white powder onto the mirror.
"Go ahead .” She gestured, smiling.
"Don't let her sneeze , Krishna!” A voice came from the bathroom stall, and then broke into drunken giggling.
"Is that her in there?” I leaned my head under the stall door.
Unmistakably, boy's pants. No girl would wear them.
"Oh my God! How did you two … did you know I was here?"
Gay bust out of the stall and headed for the coke.
I leaned over the bathroom counter next to the sinks. I grabbed a paper towel after noticing how disgusting it was and wiped down the sink.
"Only Jane would clean the sink in a tavern bathroom," Gay said.
"I'm not putting my face close to that filthy surface."
I leaned over once it was cleaned, snorted the line, conscious the whole time not to sneeze or blow out accidentally. My long, blonde hair touched the surface.
"See , my hair would have touched that filthy sink," I said.
The toilet flushed and Gay came out of the stall , wearing her standard smart-ass expression, and strutted toward the sink to snort another line.
"Freak?” she greeted.
The music began, or rather, the pounding, driving, raucous punk noise.
"The Transistors are playing?” I asked.
They stared at me.
"What?” I asked . "Is that really them?"
"Are you tripping?” Gay asked, and headed out the door into the smoke and amplified buzzing.
Krishna was closing up her case and replacing it into a little black bag with long, thin shoulder straps.
"Oh my God , I'm so wasted,” she remarked, and left me alone in there.
When I went out , they all were
Similar Books
