|
|
Entry 13 - Take These Chances VOTE
"Hi there, what can I get ya
today?" the
bartender asked as I sat down.
"Oh, maybe some coffee. I'm just
waiting for a
table." Not that I couldn't have used a drink right
about then.
"Say, um.ya look a little
antsy or sumthin. If
you need to use the men's room it's right past the..."
"Uh, no.thanks. I'm supposed to meet
someone here
in a few minutes. I guess I'm just a little nervous."
I explained.
"Yeah, the ladies can really make ya
crazy
sometimes, eh?" the bartender mused as he poured a
steaming cup of coffee and set the mug in front of me.
"Well yeah, but actually, I'm
meeting a guy who
I'm hoping will play drums in this band I wanna
start."
"Oh," he said, looking slightly
puzzled. "So.why
you so nervous then?"
"Well, he's really good and I'm just
not sure
that he'd want to play with me."
He considered my doubts, then replied.
"I know how you feel. I've thought
about starting
a band before too, but I don't think the guys I'd want
would have anything to do
with me if they heard
me play." That piqued my curiosity. "What do you
play?" I asked.
"Guitar." he said. "I play
guitar."
"Have you written any songs?"
"Yeah, I've got about four songs I
guess."
Looking back on this, I really should have asked him
if he wanted to get together and jam sometime. I guess
it just didn't occur to me for some reason. A jazz
quartet on the small stage behind me continued to play
while I waited.
Thick, black smoke rose from the hood of the car, as
it's driver tried desperately to pull off the
road before he caused an accident. He yanked the hood
latch and stepped out of the car just as a few
foul wisps of smoke began to fill the front seat.
After a few minutes of poking, prodding, and squinting
at his now blackened engine, Carter Beauford walked a
half block to the nearest pay phone to call a tow
truck.
This was undoubtedly the most interesting bartender
I'd ever met. His name was Dave Matthews, he was
originally from Johannesburg, South Africa, He and his
family moved so he could avoid obligatory service in
the apartheid South African army. Like me, he was also
a guitar player. We'd been talking for a while, when
he noticed the time.
"I guess your drummer friend is a
little late,
huh?" A quick glance at my watch confirmed it. I'd
been waiting for almost twenty minutes.
"I suppose so."
After waiting almost a half hour, a tow truck finally
arrived to take Carter's car to a nearby auto shop
where it would be looked at the next morning. Ten
minutes after it's arrival, the truck was ready to
leave and Carter gladly accepted the offer of a ride
from the driver. The repair shop was only a few
minutes walk from Miller's, where he was supposed to
meet a guy who was trying to get a rock band started.
Minutes after the two men left, traffic seemed to come
to a sudden halt. Emergency vehicles of all sorts were
clearly visible at the intersection ahead. Pieces of
twisted metal and shattered glass were strewn all
across the pavement. It would certainly be another
fifteen or twenty minutes before the site of the
accident was cleared and the police would allow
traffic to continue.
After about forty-five minutes of waiting, I went to
the use pay phone to see if I had any messages,
nothing from Carter. Although, I did get a call from
a guy I'd met by the name of Paul Greisar. or was it
Patrick? Oh well. I had met this guy a week or two ago
when he sat in with one of the more popular local rock
bands. We got to talking afterward, and he said he'd
call me about doing some gigs or whatever. I had been
here for almost an hour now. Still no Carter. I
realized I'd spent so much time thinking about what to
say, I hadn't even considered the possibility that he
might not even show up! I decided it was probably time
to leave.
"I think I'm gonna get out of here,
Dave. Good
talkin' with you."
"Yeah, uh. same here. Sorry your
drummer didn't
show up. Hope you can get your band together anyway."
"Thanks, me too. So let me ask you
something.
When is Dave Matthews going to get himself a band, do
you think?"
"Well. I'm still not sure about that
one. There's
always a chance, I guess." He said sheepishly as he
scratched at the back of his neck. I felt like I
should say something to him. I knew exactly how he
felt. I used to feel the same way too. I may not have
found success yet, but I wasn't afraid of it any more.
"Well I'll tell you something, Dave.
You only get
so many chances in your life, and if all you do is
shove them in a box somewhere waiting for a better time to
take them, that time will never come. So you'd better
take these chances when they come to you, cause
someday it'll be too late."
"Well thanks, man. That's good
advice. I'll think
about that." He replied.
"Hey, I'd better jet, but maybe I'll
see you
around sometime, Dave."
"Yeah, come back sometime an' stay
for a while."
About twenty minutes later, a very tired Carter
Beauford walked into Miller's. He looked around the
room trying to find the fellow he was supposed to meet
nearly an hour and a half ago. No sign of him
anywhere.
No surprise. Carter thought. I'll have to call that
guy tomorrow and explain what happened. Right now, all
he wanted to do was listen to the band play their last
set and have a beer.
"Hey Carter." Dave said as he
poured Carter's
beer.
"Hey Dave. Pretty slow tonight,
huh?" There
couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen people
at Miller's on this particular evening.
"Yeah, I guess most folks are still
at the game.
Say, Carter, by any chance were you supposed to meet..."
"Carter! How you been man?" The
voice came from
LeRoi Moore, the saxophone player from the jazz band.
They'd finished their last set, and LeRoi had come to
greet his friend.
"Hey Roi. Doing fine man, how bout'
you?
"Can't Complain."
"You guys were sounding pretty good
up there,
Roi."
"Well thanks! Actually I'm just
sitting in for
the night. I'm trying to find a new gig somewhere."
Dave decided this was the time to take his chances.
"Hey, can I talk to both of you guys
about
something?" He asked nervously.
As for me, I had planned to get together with Peter
Greisar that following Saturday. On Wednesday however,
he called and told me that a good friend of his was
starting a band and he couldn't pass up the
opportunity. He was apologetic, but I told him I
understood. As for my career in music, I performed a
total of three times at Prism Coffeehouse. One time I
was opening for a guy named Tim something-or-other.
I'm very bad with names. He was a nice enough guy,
didn't talk much though. Oh well.
Life can sometimes be very ironic. Just imagine if
things had happened slightly different that night. If
the moments that define our lives had been anything
but what they were, we could all be entirely different
people today. It's kind of neat to think about that.
Someone should really write a song about that.
THE END
VOTE
[1] [2] [3] [4]
[5] [6] [7] [8]
[9] [10] [11] [12]
[13] [14]
|
