The Last Time Machine. Forum You walk into the bar.

What the hell happened to that duck over there I ask. Piano players exhales a smokering and smiles lightly,"music hater" he quips.

Im watching the duck making noise over the bread that's next to him.
I look over to my booth mate and I ask if we should let it go.

I put down my pint. Look thoughtfully at those around me then walk into the night rain. It patters down upon my skin and hair. Little globules roll off my spikey tips and down my nose. I look up for a while at the beauty of the rain. Then i leave. I dont know where or why. But i know i'll be back someday.

I step into the barroom with the squeak of new high-top Reeboks across the marble entrance of the doorway, carrying in my left hand the shoe store bag and the box they came in. In my right, I�m toting a small duffle bag. I�m wearing blue jeans and a grey sweatshirt with a silk-screened image of a milk carton showing a side panel picture of a missing person. The person in the picture is me, wearing the same sweatshirt.

I move through the neon light of the bar, dodging Doors-ey notes from the piano and taking in the scene from behind a pair of cheap Ray Ban knockoffs. For some reason I find the shimmer of my new shoes in the cocktail glow, somewhat invigorating and I attempt to keep my eyes to the aura that marks my steps. I find myself at the bar. Looking up and left I see a duck that appears to be pinned to the surface of the bar. 'None of your concern' I think to myself as I motion for the barkeep. I order a Yuengling longneck and a Jager Bomb and slant my back to the duck. My order arrives and I take a long pull from the beer before slamming the shot and order another round.

Looking at my watch I remember that I need a new battery. Stuck on 12:33 for what�two, three weeks now? And the funny part is that I can�t remember if it was a.m. or p.m. 'Maybe I can pick one up when I get back', I think as I slam the next bomb and take a look around the place. 'If I get back, that is.'

I carry my beer and belongings to a booth and fumble in the side compartment of my duffle bag for my smokes and lighter.

I watch the newcomers give the duck the eye and shake their heads. Some fellow is drinking Yuenglings and shots. He must have had a rough day. He wears nice new shoes though. Me and the piano player break into a rendition of Come on baby light my fire and a few couples get up to dance. The booths are filling up and some girl wants to know if we split the tip jar. Nope I tell her, that's piano mans. I'm just here for the party."You sound nice", she says. So do you my dear, I return.

I watch the guy at the bar, slamming shots like Ive never seen.
Im almost tempted to have some shots myself, seeing that I dont really feel like flying.
Instead,
I put my notebook away, and I walk out of the bar, into the terminal, to check my flight. Supposed to be flying to Sydney, but I dont think I'll ever make it. Something just gives me a odd, nervous feeling about it.
I see the arrivals/departing board, and my flight is cancelled.

Wonderful!
I walk back into the bar, and I take the nail out of the duck's beak. I take the duck to the other end of the bar, and we proceed to get drunk off Irish Car Bombs.

Gets up from the piano. Gets the duck. Takes it to the Vietnamese restaurant next door. Hangs a sign on the door. "Absolutely No Animals. Mamu is watching." Sits back down at the piano and picks up F. G.'s theme with Memphis Slim voicings.

She notices the piano player leave the bar. As the door closes behind him, a vision flashes, blinding her

A thousand years or a thousand days - finally, he comes back to her. He pushes her down onto the table and whispers into her ear, tugging at her pearl earring with his teeth as he confirms their reunion. Holding her down with one hand, he pulls the hair pins out, allowing her curls to cascade over the wooden surface. He leans over to taste her skin. She remembers him and all that he meant to her: her master through time. His garb has changed but his soul remains the same.

Her eyes dart around the room. Her mind races and her body aches with the power of the vision. 'F**k. What the F**k? I need to go to the bathroom.'

I watch the piano player take the duck outside....
No Animals!? But the duck was already here!!
Damn it!

Well hell....Im certainly drinking alone.


I walk up to the fella in the sweatshirt, and I watch him for a moment.
Then I see a well dressed yet dishevled classy lady stumble by me. She looks dazed...My eyes follow her for a second, then I turn my direction back to the guy at the bar.

I turn around, with my back to the bar, and I take it all in. A guy who doesnt speak with a briefcase. The piano player who takes my drinking buddy. There's a guy with a guitar, and I want to ask him to play something soulful. Something with longing, to match the foggy, rainy weather outside.

The girl in my booth is just sitting there silent.
It is TOO quiet.
Im thinking that it's time for some noise.....

The crash of a broken glass breaks me out of my bar daze. I find my friend at the bar looking like a lion in a cage. I can tell she wants something to happen but I wonder what she has in mind. I am distracted by the man with the guitar. I starve for them to play a song I like. The duck is gone and I cant see him anywhere. I walk up to the bar to rejoin the girl that caught my eye. Now I want something to go off that would make this evening worth remembering.

I'm walking out the restroom, or the "washroom" as my genteel boss once called it. I could have sworn I heard Beethoven's 9th...but time has become a Momento-ish mesh in my mind, in my throbbing skull where the 9th now mingles with Baby Light my Fire...Now this is piano lounge music - everything is coming slowly into focus now. A red haze still hangs over the outline of muddled figures at the bar. I keep my eyes down and make my way to the cushioned stool. I raise my finger and the bartender obliges. "An Adios M**********r" - He squints his eyes - "it's a drink. Just give me a shot of whiskey and a beer." "what kind?", he asks. "what kind of what? whiskey or beer?" "Both" "Doesn't matter, just make it good." God, what a waist of breath. Maybe I should have shaved my scruffy beard. Scruffy beard plus blood shot eyes, not the most innocent of looks now adays. Oh, well, it's not that thick. I notice the haze waffing in the neon illumination of signs at the bar. I catch a glimpse in the mirror behind the bottles - something is happening behind me...

I start in on Slow Like Honey by Fiona Apple for the lady who wants some blues and Paul nods his head instinctively realizing this is a piano tune. The bartender has refilled my brandy and the tune drolls with the rain. I wonder if the duck is getting cooked next door. He was stewed when he left. I hear a crash and think the waiter has dropped some glasses.

Hears the guitar player's intro but mistakes it for Van Morrison's "Madame George", tries to adjust but his vision is blurred and his hands are shaking too much and the keys are slippery wet with tears. Looks around the bar and sees that she's gone. Stands. Closes the piano. Shakes hands with the guitar player. Embraces the sweet thin young woman in jeans. Tips his hat to the young man in dark suit and hornrimmed glasses. Looks around again to make sure she hasn't returned. He can't stand to say goodbye. Walks out of the bar to the car park, gets into his big silver car and drives off onto the highway.

I finish my beer rather quickly and again look at my watch out of reflex. I notice the eyes of a young girl in my direction or so it seemed, but I'm tired and it seems that everyone looks as fatigued as I feel. How many minutes had passed since I�d sat down? The empty bottle still feels the slightest bit cold in my hand yet I know I�ve heard a medley of songs from the piano. And I saw that girl get up from her writing to try to rescue the duck it seemed, only to have a distressed individual carry him out the door.

�None of your concern.� I say to myself again. I look at my watch again. I take my empty bottle up to the bar and wave the barkeep over. �Run a tab, my flight�s not leaving for another hour, if it doesn�t get delayed or canceled again. I�ll be right back. I�m going to the gift shop to see about a battery for my watch.�

The barkeep looks me over and nods approval to my back ,as I�ve already taken it regardless, turning to grab my belongings I head out the door and down the terminal to the gift shop.

With all the luck of an Irishman, they have one battery in stock that�s just right for my watch. I stand behind a rather obese woman who�s waiting for her prot�g� daughter to select from an armload of candy bars and sugar snacks. I wait as patiently as I can, glancing at my watch a couple of times for good measure�even though everyone in this purgatory airport terminal knows no planes are coming from or going to anywhere.
I barter for my purchase with no answer to his robotic smile of �how are you today?� He hides his metal braces grin. I win a small victory. So thrilled I could pee. In fact I need to take a piss, so I head back toward the bar, reading the back panel of 3�x5� cardboard holding one tiny little battery.

As I step back into the bar I hear a loud crash and look over at the bar where someone has dropped a glass.
The young female writer is standing there and I can see a look of expectancy on her face, as if she�s waiting for someone to draw steel. I follow her eyes back to her table and her friend as I make my way past towards the restroom.

Once inside, I find myself alone. I run my right arm through the handles of my duffle and shopping bags, not wanting to place them on the grime of the restroom floor. I take the new battery out of the package and place it on the counter, then I take off my watch and use a dime to remove the lid to the battery case. I pick up the new battery and roll the lid and battery from the back of the watch and into my palm. �Well, that�s one less problem to worry about.� I say out loud and to myself in the mirror, as I take the new battery and lid and snap them into place.

The piano player is so distraught that I assume the blues were too much for him. Only a woman can make a man act that way. I take a break and head for the lounge with guitar in tow. I smile at the mountain of a man standing at the entrance and to my surprise and a little discomfort, he smiles back. I ask if he will keep an eye on Blondie,my guitar. He says, "sure" in a slow deep voice that I know came from the basement of his soul. Ah, maybe he's not such a bad guy.My flight back to Atlanta is delayed so I take up a game of chess with some college preppie looking guy in the corner.

She returns from the bathroom and takes her seat again - her make-up freshened up and her mind now clear. As she casts her eye around the bar, she notices that the piano man is gone. She's sure that for a second, she can see his reflection in the mirror but it quickly fades. Her body again grows cold and for some inexplicable reason she finds herself wanting to find him.

Instead, she picks up her drink and longs for someone to approach her - to bring her back to some reality.

The man scans the room steadily pulling tugs from his cigarette, and releasing it into the smog already collecting at the ceiling of the bar. He takes a sip of cognac, and his face tenses up as the bitter liquor crosses the threshold of his lips, and down his throat. He stops midscan as he eyes a woman returning from the restroom, back to the bar. It seemed almost a unconscious effort that he reached down to touch the briefcase to make sure it was still there. He stops the waitress, and tells her to get the lady whatever she's drinking and put it on his tab. He then further instructs the waitress to tell the piano man to play some Marvin Gaye. He stubs his cigarette out, and smooths his hair back. He picks up the napkin holder to fix himself by using its reflection. He smooths his jacket, and straightens his tie. He then leans back with both of his arms spread across the booth.

Out of the murk and the gloom. From a place unknown to him where he had wandered in a daze he is yanked from time and space. Left dazed and wondering if he had had some bad apples... he finds himself plonked on a wooden chair, by a table in front of a lonely looking lady. He clicks his fingers.."welcome back."

I slide my hand over the wetness of the new black dress I bought for the party at Ray's. It's probably ruined from the rain and with that thought a big silver car passes, splashing water against my legs. I've seen the driver before. His face is very familiar, but I can't quite place it. For no real reason I care that he has such an intense look on his face. "Heavy, heavy hangs my heart," I say to myself as he drives away, and again I wonder where I've seen his handsome features.

My heels click too sharply as I enter the terminal and several people turn to stare. No, I'm not dressed for flying. Taking Jonethan's diamond from my hand, and the diamonds from my neck that hang into my ample cleavage, I wonder if I'll ever see Jonethan again, but know I won't take him back a second time. Mentally, I've thrown him away as neatly as that. It takes a fool to play games when so much is at stake.

Checking the flights, I see they're all grounded because of the weather. It doesn't matter to me. I don't care where I'm going at this point, but the bar across the way virtually calls my name. A few Brass Monkeys should help kill the pain. I pause near the doorway. Nearby, some fowl, duck or goose, is literally screaming. A man fusses at the bird in what I recognize as Japanese. It's more than a little distressing. The last time I came to this bar with Jonethan some Neanderthal had nailed a duck to the bar through its bill. The struggling and noise of the men's laughter had turned my stomach.

As I enter the doorway, I wish for the soft sounds of some smooth jazz, maybe some Russ Freeman guitar since there's a guitar leaning near the piano. There are a jumble of people in the smoke-filled bar, but what catches my attention are the case tucked behind one man's feet and the black notebook in some young girl's arms. It was no ordinary night and with the planes grounded there are more people in the bar than usual. I pick a secluded spot for myself and sit down. Jonethan's diamonds are still clenched tightly in my left hand, and I must look as undone as I feel. Some man stares at the slit in my dress where it's fallen open. I just don't care. No, Chloe Ramone isn't dressed for travel; thank his bedroom eyes for noticing.

I'm taking all this in, and I mutter something low and quiet to the barkeep. I give the "guard" by the red curtain a wink.

I look over to where the guy in the sweatshirt was, and I notice that he has left his shot glasses on the bar.
I get inspired. A wicked little grin comes over me, and I take one of those glasses, and walk to the other end of the bar. My eyes are on my notebook the entire time, as I slide the glass as hard as I can.
It clinks off some of the other glasses, and then shatters on the floor.

I turn around again, looking around, like I don't know what just happened....