Night Trippin'
Right Place, Wrong Time (Fiction) (Based on a Prompt)
Painting from ‘Waltzing with the Muse’ Collection, by James Michalopoulos. Ogden Museum of Southern Art, New Orleans.
Thanks to MJ Polk, and his publication Stories from the Jukebox, for asking me to host this week’s song prompt. Keep an eye on MJ. In addition to The Southern Copywriter blog, and Stories from the Jukebox, he is also involved in a brand new project called the Southern Writers' Guild.
I chose Right Place, Wrong Time, by Dr. John for this week’s prompt. The first song on the 1973 album In the Right Place, from the funky New Orleans Night Tripper.
My oldest brother played college baseball in New Orleans, so I received an early introduction to the Crescent City’s music, food, architecture, people and culture. It is an amazingly unique city with no equal.
Dr. John, was a totally different kind of musical animal, worth checking out. If you are unfamiliar, I recommend listening to - Marie Laveau, or, How Come My Dog Don’t Bark (When You Come Around), to get a feel for what the good doctor’s music is all about.
(Lyrics in bold italics.)
“Sure, I’ll have another Sazerac, please.”
It was the third and last day of my fact finding mission in New Orleans and I was feeling fine.
My good friend Jim, who manages a brand new hotel and restaurant in the French Quarter, recently offered me a job as bar program manager for the property.
I’ve been mulling over the offer for a couple of weeks and finally decided to come down and check it out. I haven’t been here in years, but I’m actively looking for a change of scenery.
My wife Lana, flew the coop about ten months ago and I’ve been in a funk since that day.
Lana always wanted to be someone.
She wanted plenty of money. She wanted things.
She apparently wanted more than me, so she ran off with an old high school chum after reconnecting at her 25th high school reunion, last summer.
Twenty-three years of marriage, gone in the blink of an eye, but we can all rest easy, because the quarterback and the head cheerleader are back together again.
Maybe, if I had gone along with her, it never would have happened. Who knows? A friend offered me a free ticket and a chance to see my favorite hockey team, the Boston Bruins, in my hometown of Nashville.
That decision drastically changed my life.
Right place, wrong time
Its fine though, I hear the newlyweds are already having issues. Seems the big-shot quarterback lost his job and the forever high-schoolers are having all kinds of money problems.
As for me, I’ve worked in the hospitality business for over twenty years, as a sommelier, an events coordinator and a bar program coordinator.
I spent my entire first day in New Orleans meeting with the owners and management team.
Yesterday, I did all the New Orleanian things. Beignets at Cafe Du Monde, muffuletta at Central Grocery, a visit to a voodoo shop and dinner at Atchafalaya.
After more meetings today, I’m now sitting at the hotel bar having a few drinks, before catching up with Jim on Frenchman Street to watch some live music.
The absinthe is starting to do a number on me, so I pay my tab and head over to The Spotted Cat.
It’s almost ten o’clock and the place is packed, so I grab a spot at the bar and order a whiskey and water. James Andrews and the Crescent City All Stars are on stage, so I settle in while downing a couple more drinks. During the first break at a little after eleven, I see Jim over by the door heading outside, so I follow him.
“Hey Jim, where ya’ headed?”
“Oh, there you are. I’ve been waiting on you.”
“You said ten o’clock, right.”
“No, eight.”
“Oh man, I’m sorry.”
“No big deal, I have to work really early tomorrow. Stop by and see me before you head back to Nashville.”
Right place, wrong time
While strolling around, a wild trumpet solo from The Blue Nile catches my ear and I step inside just as The Soul Rebels are cranking up. I slip through the crowd to a spot by the stage, and find myself standing next to a very attractive lady.
I exchange small talk and try to work in a few smooth lines, and it seems to be going pretty well, until she starts flirting with the young guy standing directly behind me.
I’d have said the right thing, but I must have used the wrong line
My head is throbbing, so I head back toward the hotel.
As I turn the corner onto Dumaine, a pretty lady walks straight up to me and asks,
“Well, hello! How are you?”
She is tall, blonde, absolutely gorgeous, and has an uncanny resemblance to a doll I picked up at Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo, just yesterday.
She’s wearing a loose, billowy, dress and is carrying a large silver chalice in her hand. That’s all pretty normal for New Orleans, I guess, but the flowing blue gown and yellow flowers painted around her eyes make her look like something out of a fairy tale.
She doesn’t even look real.
I rub my eyes to make sure she is.
When I look up, she’s flashing a wicked grin.
“Uh… I’m fine.”
“You wanna have some fun?”
“Um… sure.”
“Well, allons-y.”
“Excuse me.”
“C’mon, silly!”
She flows down the street, almost like she’s hovering.
I’ve had so much to drink, I rub my eyes again to make sure I’m not hallucinating. When I look up, sure enough, she’s gone.
I start walking again and the mystery lady appears right at my side.
“Where were you? You’re like… a ghost.”
She hands me the chalice.
“Here, have a sip.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t worry, love. It’ll do you good.”
I take a sip.
It tastes like rainwater and bon temps. Like, lavender and lagniappe.
She grabs the chalice back.
“Not too much, it’s really strong.”
She glides up ahead of me with an air of sophistication and grace.
All flowers and lace.
She turns around and extends her hand.
“C’mon, I won’t hurt you.”
“Where are we going?”
“You just need a little brain salad surgery.”
“A little what?”
“I’m kidding, c’mon. We have to cure this insecurity.”
I check for the time on my phone, which, all of a sudden, is dead.
I look up to see my new paramour already on the opposite side of the street.
As I marvel at how she does that, I see a golden mask hanging in the window of a gift shop that looks like it’s glowing.
I hurry away wondering what in the hell is in that cup.
She turns the corner up ahead and as I reach the end of the street, she’s vanished once again.
A swift breeze rustles through the trees as I notice I’m standing next to a creepy old cemetery filled with ancient, above-ground tombs dripping with Spanish moss.
Refried confusion is making itself clear
Wonder which way do I go to get on out of here
Slipping, dodging, sneaking, creeping,
hiding out down the street
See my life shaking with every who I meet
When I turn around, she’s right in front of me.
I shudder and step back when I feel her cold hand on my arm.
“Don’t be shy, here, have another sip.”
My head is still pounding and I definitely don’t need anything else to drink, but still, I take a big sip of the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
My head was in a bad place but I’m having such a good time
“So, um, who are you?”
“I’m Trini.”
“What’s going on here, Trini?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you here, hanging out with me?’
“Well, I know you’ve had a hard time lately and I’m just here to make you feel better.”
“How did you know that?”
“I just know things. I guess you could say I’m a spirit. A good spirit, sha.”
“Sha?”
“Don’t worry, it’s just what I call people I like.”
I’ve been running trying to get hung up in my mind
Really got to give myself a good talking to this time
I spot a bench and take a seat. She sits down and kisses my cheek. Her face feels soft and cold on my skin.
“I don’t know, Trini, this is all pretty wild.”
I stare at her beautiful face.
I close my eyes and lean in to return the kiss but only feel air, and then lose my balance and fall completely off of the bench.
My mystery lady is gone again.
A three-second burst of a loud siren startles me as I drag myself up and notice a police car with lights flashing.
An officer heads my way.
“You got identification?”
“Yes sir, uh, sure.”
I fumble around trying to find my driver’s license while he tells me he could have me arrested for public intoxication.
I took the right road
I must have took a wrong turn
I took a right move
But I made it at the wrong time
The officer has a change of heart and instead, drops me off at my hotel with a warning.
The next morning, I call Jim to tell him I’m taking the job.
He lets me know the salary will be twice what I’m currently making.
“Wow! Awesome! Thanks Jim. Hey, do you happen to know anyone named Trini, a tall, silvery-blonde, uh… mysterious, um… spirit, I mean, lady?”
“Nope. Can’t say that I do.”
The very last thing I do before heading back to Tennessee, is send a text to my ex, letting her know about my new job.
A job paying double what I was making back in Nashville.
I just figured she should know,
she was in the right place all along…
but, it must have been the wrong time.
Oh man, this is sooooooo good! Right place, wrong time and just the right N’Orlinz feel to it. The drinks. The lady/spirit flitting between dimensions, anchored by—his fantasies perhaps? And yet, he backs off to ask her why which—to me—puts him at a level or two above just a guy looking for revenge. Even at the end, when he fills his exwife in with more of a laugh than a snarl. Only way to improve it would be to have the actual soundtrack playing while the story unfolds. If you ever record the story as a voice tape, be sure to have the song play. That singer’s wry voice adds exactly the right texture. Wonderful work!
Great story. Story of my life - Right place, wrong time.