There are really three stories here that are all tied together by the same three-day time period. They should be told together to better understand how the third and more meaningful story unfolds. The first two, while maybe amusing (I hope they are) are just background for the third. I am going to break these into three parts because of length and the very different flavor and texture of the third. God I love that word texture. I suppose it is because texture can involve a combination of many senses and imagery all at the same time. You will understand when we get two part three. But for now, on to part one……

South Carolina

There was a time when business required that I spend significant time in the south. It was a Thursday afternoon and I had just finished up a week long convention in Atlanta Georgia. If you have experienced these you know that very late hours and considerable amounts of spirits are imbibed. I was a bit tired, but youth will get you through anything in spite of yourself. Now I was jumping over to South Carolina for a Friday morning breakfast meeting and looking forward to some much-needed sleep and a few quiet rounds of golf before the Monday morning marathon began all over again. An old friend from New York was now living in the area and I had been invited to dinner Thursday evening. Good – home cooked food; early check in at the hotel and some much needed sleep. Well, maybe not……..

I have dinner with his family, we catch up on each other’s news and I am making my apologies for wanting to leave early. It was not to be. He and his wife insist we all go out for a drink. I can’t refuse; the lady just gave me dinner. I was however able to ask that we go some place tame and comfortable. “No problem. There is a new place named” ….and get this…. “The New Yorker Club.” It’s all couples with soft music for dancing and has a nice bar off the dance floor. A great place for a quiet drink.”

The New Yorker Club is exactly as promised and is not the usual Honky Tonk bedlam I am used to in the Carolinas. The place is dark and appealing with a quiet band playing slow dance music. Our conversation is soothing with low-key laughs and smiles all around. The Bar Maid who is quite fetching in a theatrical harem costume enhances the aesthetics of the place. She has joined our conversation as her time permits.

Little Red Ridding Hood

Someone is tapping my shoulder and as I turn there is a dark haired beauty leaning over the railing that separates the bar area from the dance floor. “Will ya-all-l slow dance with me?” I’ve had women ask me to dance before and being a gentleman I never refused a lady (wink). 

As I said the place is pretty dark and there is one of those turning mirror balls hanging over the dance floor providing most of the light. We exchange names and some small talk. Being as burnt as I was my mind was working a little slow when I remembered that this was a couples place! The air-raid horn goes off in my head – this girl is much too pretty to be in a couples place alone! I whispered in her ear, “who are you here with?” The response was not what I expected…… “My Moma.” And nods toward a table of seven or eight people.

Adrenalin pumps, brain cells come back on line and I push her back a foot to take a studied look at her. Almost as tall as me; Full makeup; Curves in the right places but…… She is a child! “ How old are you?” My eyes are burning straight through her. “Whyyyy ammm Fifteennnn.” With those words the air has gone out of my balloon quickly. “Your mother is not going to like this one bit!” Big brown eyes, “It’s OKaaaa, she said Iaaaa Could.” My opinion of her Mother need not be printed – I finished the dance with her holding her off a respectable foot and thanked her for the dance. Quickly returning to the bar and relating what just happened I took the expected ribbing from my friends and the Bar Maid. The girl did return once more and ask to dance again but, of course, I declined and told her straight out that I was twice her age and too old for her in my best apologetic form as not to hurt her feelings (I’d have liked to hurt her Mother’s feelings though!).

After Hours

Now I never hit on Bar Maids. One, they are working; Two they are hit on all day long; and three the cleavage and flirting conversation is to keep you at the bar and get a big tip. But there’s a funny thing about women – As soon as one shows interest, even a child, they get into a feeding frenzy. The Bar Maid, in no uncertain terms, invites me to the after hours club for bar people after closing. What could I say? The harem pants had me for the last hour anyway and I was sure this one was legal.

After Hours Clubs are private; membership required (the legal ones). You cannot get in unless you are a member or guest of a member. They are for bar tenders, wait staff, bouncers and entertainers. No body gets drunk, there are no fights; these folks have seen enough of that all night long already. But it is a party and no one gets off the dance floor. It’s 5 AM at her place and 6:30 AM at my hotel café for breakfast. She knows the waitresses and since the place is still empty there is chit-chat all around as she relates the evening to them, little girl and all. By know I am showing ware and tear.

Show Time 

It’s 8 AM – showered, shaved and in my navy pin-strip three piece suit. I join four other older suits at a table and I look fresh as a daisy (I’m dying). A waitress comes over to get our order, takes on look at me and breaks into hysterical laughter. I’m covertly shaking my head no to her and she picks it up. Whew! Breakfast two is spent in boring conversation with the suits and points and giggles from the wait staff. 10 AM and I only manage to get the tie off before I fall asleep across the bed.

Friday Afternoon And The Circus Comes To Town

4 PM and my phone is ringing …

To be continued …… Part 2 – The Circus Comes to Town