Time
Traveler -The Oddities and Adventures of a Key West Bartender
Chapter
1 - The Dream
It
wasn't as though he had any control over it. When the phenomenon
started, he was asleep. That first time, when he woke, it seemed like
such a vivid dream. On the other hand, it seemed like it was just too
real, and, he didn't feel rested at all. As a matter of fact, he was
quite tired! Odder than that, he felt the mild effects of alcohol
from the night before, yet he hadn't drunk anything at all. In his
quandary, the day went on and the memory was not at all like that of
a regular dream that fades as the day and minutes.went on. It was so
real. The people he met during the experience were so much in the
flesh, as were the experiences. The other odd thing was that the
“dream” occurred in the town he lived in, albeit many years
prior. Here he was in the twenty-first century, but dream took place
in the 1930's. It was so peculiar, bizarre even. If there ever was an
appropriate word for it, Bizarre
was
indeed the correct word.
Key
West. That was the town of choice five years ago. It was a small city
on the outer limits of the U.S. an island town over one hundred miles
out to sea. Curiously enough it’s a city you can drive to, island
hopping across forty-five bridges that link the archipelago coral
chain of islands known as The Florida Keys.
His
name is Mark Straight and he has been around the world several times
in his lifetime, approaching his fifth decade. He certainly was
no green traveler. He had seen the good, the bad, and the evil and
decided the bad and the evil were not his cup of tea. Key West
offered the sanctuary he had been seeking. Key West wasn’t the real
world. It was isolated and had a mentality of its own. The Keys in
general, be it Key West, Key Largo, or The Dry Tortugas for that
matter, had an entirely different way of life than the rest of the
United States. Back in 1982, the island chain had actually seceded
from the U.S. in a mock uprising. Declaring themselves independent,
they coined The Conch Republic as the name for their brave new world.
This was a cornerstone, long overdue, that reflected the independence
of the islands and the very different mentality that they
encompassed. In many cases, if something could be warped into a
farce, the Conch Republic is where it was found. Laughter was the
order of the day and this is what Mark craved at this juncture in his
life. He moved and settled in the capital of The Conch Republic, Key
West, five years ago.
At
this stage of the game, he knew the island like the back of his hand.
He learned all of the insights through the tradition of experience.
For instance, he knew Key West is a town where you drive your car
only out of necessity. Parking is too much of a nuisance. No, you
generally either walk or ride a bike., unless you’re hauling goods,
the vehicle stays parked.
Consequently,
one tends to read between the lines as far as the geographical
nuances go: when one walks or rides a bike innuendos pave the path.
The town is loaded with nooks and crannies that you would never see
driving in a car. As a matter of fact, even riding a bike, you tend
to miss about fifty percent of what you would see walking. While Mark
did a good deal of bike riding, he also did a lot of walking. He knew
this town inside out.
Key
West is a town; unlike its northern neighbor Miami, it preserves its
past. Miami
pledges its allegiance to the bulldozer and its trusty assistant, the
wrecking ball. Key West has ordinances set out that forbid structures
being torn down. It is permissible to restore older buildings, and
the funny thing about this is that the restored versions tend to be
much more opulent than the originals. It's all good, albeit there
being more renovations rather than restorations, but the point, is
that the town today looks quite the same as it did over one-hundred
years ago.
In
his peculiar sleeping experience, Mark found himself knowing points
of interest and living where he currently lived, albeit in a
different setting. Unlike regular dreams, there was no jumping from
one point to another. If he was going from one point to another,
there was time and traveling involved, just as in real life. The
oddest thing was that it seemed exactly like real life.
Mark,
in conscious life, works as a bartender making exotic drinks at an
old, classic, Victorian bar in a mansion which dates from the 1840's,
The Side Car. He also works in another bar which specializes in local
beers from around the world, as well as wine and cigars, The Cork and
Stogie.
As
he rode his bike to work to the Victorian bar that morning, all he
could think about was the very peculiar dream he had. The more he
thought about it, the more puzzling it seemed. He actually had seen
this very Victorian mansion in the dream, however, in the
1930's, it was a home and office of a well-known doctor.
The
dream started with Mark tending bar at a restaurant on lower Duval
Street, the main street in Key West, called The Victoria Restaurant.
When the dream started, Mark was tending bar and mixing, fittingly
enough, an Old Fashioned. As he turned to his left, he found himself
facing his fellow bartender, Freddy. Freddy was quite busy vigorously
shaking a whiskey sour.
“Got
yours done? Glades is ready” questioned Freddy.
“All
set. Here you go” replied Mark, putting his drink on Glades' tray.
It was odd indeed. Suddenly, there he was in a rush hour, in the
midst of mixing cocktails, yet thinking nothing of it at all. There
was a job to be done. At that moment, all he knew was that he was
mixing an Old Fashioned and the waitress was waiting. In this dream,
he also knew everyone well.
Glades
smiled. She looked like one of the Andrews Sisters. Her hair was up
in a bon vivant style. Her outfit was much more like an old time
nurse's ensemble. White, with red ruffles, It appeared to be full of
starch and possess the flexibility of cardboard. Mark marveled at how
quickly she scooted from the bar with the drinks in that stiff
contraption she was wearing.
A
"contraption" was the right word, as well. After she
delivered the drinks to the table she was serving, she
approached the kitchen, stopped and bent over to pick up a stray
napkin, Mark watched her and was amazed to see what appeared to be
the equivalent of a suspension bridge with straps going this way and
that, under her dress. She looked back to see him looking at her in
amazement, then quickly composed herself and rushed into the kitchen,
nervously pulling her compact out, to check her makeup and lipstick,
as she whisked through the swing doors of the bustling kitchen.
Mark
didn’t realize it, but that was how she wanted it to look. She was
looking behind her to see if Mark was still looking. He was, and she
smiled to herself. Curiously, Mark found Glades to be indeed quite
attractive. He even had a hankering to try out as a Flying Melinda
high-wire act, and go for a swing on Glades’ trapeze.
Glades
Valdez was twenty-six. Her parents came from Cuba before she was born
after she was conceived in Cuba. She would joke “Hecho en Cuba,
nacido en U.S.A.”. Which translates into “Made in Cuba, born in
the U.S.A.”. She spoke Spanish with a Cuban accent and English with
what is known as a Conch accent. Throughout the Florida Keys, the
people born on the islands call themselves “Conch's”, a throwback
from the original settlers who came from the Bahamas and referred to
themselves after the crustacean prior to emigrating to the Keys.
The
Conch accent is a unique one. It sounds a lot like if Brooklyn mated
with Alabama. Glades and Fred had Conch accents. Mark, however, was
different, he was from Connecticut.
“ I
think that Glades has a thing for you, Bubba,” said Freddy. The
colloquial term, “Bubba” being the term for, someone who was “one
of them”.
“Seriously?”
replied Mark.
“Uhm-Humm!
No doubt about it. Hey, you want to hit The Blind Pig after we get
off?”
“The
Blind Pig? Sounds great I could use a cocktail made for me for once”
The
Blind Pig was actually its old name from when it was a speakeasy, but
that was only a few years before. In this town, old names are hard to
shake and new names take a while to settle into the place. Mark
looked at a paper a patron left on the bar. March 16th, 1935 it was
the date.
“1935?
How did I get here?” Mark was thinking. He looked around and
immediately knew where he was. He was in Sloppy Joe's, but it looked
a bit different. There were no fish on the walls. There was the men's
room where the kitchen had been. The tables were all covered in white
linen with matching napkins. When he looked up he saw the sign
“Victoria Restaurant”.
Every
now and then one realizes that they are in a dream, in the dream.
This was now dawning on Mark
“This
is one hell of a dream,” he was thinking. Then, he thought “I'm
just going to roll with this. It could be fun!” Indeed, it was one
of those very rare occasions where one actually realizes they are, in
fact, in a dream.
He
and Freddy finished up and, unlike a dream, it was as though it was
in real time. It took an hour to clean and set up the bar for the
next day. The bottles were all an older style, ornate and heavy, with
beautiful labels. The fixtures were also heavy and quite stylish; and
when he turned on the water, unlike a regular dream, he could feel
it.
When
they left, Freddy subtly leads them in a brisk walk across Duval
Street to the other side and the corner of Greene Street. Arriving at
the corner, Mark stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at the sign on
the bar hanging over the sidewalk.
Freddy,
impatient, took a few more steps and turned around and said “Hey!
What are you stopping for? Let's get a beer!”
Mark
looked at the sign. He knew the place as Captain Tony's, but there it
was, plain as day, reading “Sloppy Joe's”. Everyone in town today
knows that Captain Tony's was the original Sloppy Joe's. Sloppy Joe's
is an institution, after all. It had been in this location from 1933
to 1937. Before that it was the speakeasy known as,The Blind Pig.
They
walked through the open French doors. The layout was different than
he knew it. Yes, there was the hanging tree growing through the
middle of the bar, however, the bar was along the left wall, with
booths in the back. In what he knew as the pool room, there was a
dance floor instead. The sign read “The Silver Slipper”.
Couples were dancing to Cuban music of the era, blaring out of a
phonograph cone speaker from a 78 record.
The
bar was dark. The only light seemed as though it was from the street
lights outside.
“Hey!
Grab us a couple of Royals from Skinner!” hollered Freddy, as he
hurried to the men's room. Mark had seen a local beer named Royal
back at the Victoria, so Skinner must be the bartender.
Skinner
was a large black man, no less than three hundred pounds. He had a
big grin on his face, yet at the same time, you could tell he kept a
little bit in reserve, just in case. In a bar like this, that “just
in case” most likely happened several times a day.
Mark
walked up to the bar casually, but at a deliberate pace. “Hey
Skinner, how are you?”
Skinner
replied “Alright! You Mark? What will you be having tonight?” It
was funny because everyone in this dream knew him, and he felt like
he knew them.
“Could
I get two Royals?”
Skinner
reached down into the ice box and pulled out two cans of Royal beer.
They were curious cans of the era, with a cone shaped top and a screw
cap. Skinner opened them both and set them on the bar.
“That'll
be twelve cents, Mark,” uttered Skinner
Surprised,
Mark laughed shook his head and asked “Twelve cents?” Beers
started at five dollars back in the Twenty-First-Century.
“Yeah,
they went up a penny from last week.”
He
reached into his pocket and pulled out a buffalo nickel and a mercury
dime. “Here you go, keep the change”.
Skimmer
smiled, nodded and then moved on to the next customer.
Freddy
came back and Mark said to him “Price of beer is up to six cents. I
got this round, but the next one's on you”
“Six
cents! What's the world coming to?” Freddy exclaimed half in
surprise half in jest.
“Just
think, by the Twenty-First century they'll probably be five bucks
each,” Mark said in a little tongue-in-cheek joke to himself.
“Can
you imagine? No, that'll never happen, Five bucks a beer! HA HA HA!”
replied Freddy, his Conch accent heavy and his a laugh loud.
Frederick
“Freddy” Carpenter. He was a little younger than Mark, at
thirty-three. He stood around five-seven, and maybe one hundred and
forty-five pounds. He was full of energy, and easily excited about
things in general. Born to a well to do and long established family
in town, he nonetheless went out on his own instead of going into the
family business. He loved his family but loved his independence more.
He loved a good bar and this was his favorite. Freddy took a hard
swig of his Royal, directly from the can. “Ahhhh! Now that's what
I've been waiting for!”
To
Mark's sophisticated palate, this Royal beer was actually a decent
beer. It was an all malt pilsner product brewed in Key West. Not bad.
He and Freddy joked for a bit drinking a few beers when Freddy nudged
Mark and used his eyes to point to the side. Taking his cue, Mark
turned around to see Glades and Erica, one of her girlfriends,
walking through the front door.
They
went directly for Mark and Freddy and gave them a friendly greeting.
The girls ordered Manhattans, and the conversation took off from
there. They first started talking about their common bond, working at
the Victoria. Co-workers, customers, order mix ups. Mark thought that
in all these years, the restaurant business never changes. After a
bit, Mark suggested to Glades “Let's go cut a rug at the Silver
Slipper!”. Glades thought it was a great idea, agreeing
enthusiastically.
The
Silver Slipper was off to the side and a couple of steps down. As
things turned out, Mark was quite a dancer, as was Glades, and they
made quite a hit with the crowd on the dance floor. It got to the
point that on one energetic number the couples on the dance floor
went off to the side and clapped to the rhythm of the beat of the
music, cheering on Mark and Glades as they burnt the carpet to
everyone’s enjoyment.
It
was a great evening. When they stopped dancing they found that Freddy
and Erica were no longer in the bar. He offered Glades another drink,
but he had run out of change, so he pulled out his wallet and found
it with several dollar bills from a different era than he was
accustomed. He gave Skinner one and Skinner gave him the change, the
beer, and the cocktail.
After
a couple more libations, Mark offered to see Glades home. She didn't
live far away, just a few blocks down on Fishbone Lane, which ran
between Eaton and Caroline Streets. He knew it as Pecan Lane. It
wasn't far from where the shrimpers hung out, and that was no place
for a girl to go at night. She was a few blocks west of there, but
Mark thought it best to walk her home.
Shrimpers
were about as rough a crew as one would find. They’d just as
quickly shake your hand with a warm greeting, as they would knocking
your lights out. The latter happened when they were drinking. It was
nighttime and a shrimper’s bar, the Bucket Of Blood, was just a
couple of block’s down from where Glades lived. Mark would see her
home at this hour.
Glades
had a room above the corner store, which had a rear entrance. She
jokingly called it The Pelican’s Nest. When they got there, Glades
said “I know you are acquainted with a lot of old things.
Collectible antiques and haberdashery-like things. I inherited this
brooch and maybe you can give me some advice on it?”
“I'd
be happy to. When would you like me to look at it?”
“Well,
you're here right now. I know it's late, but it will only take a few
minutes”
“Sure,”
Mark said in a matter of fact fashion.
“Good!
Come on, let me show you!” she said happily.
They
went inside to review the brooch. It was classic and ornate. Mark was
guessing it may have been around one hundred years old. He was
impressed with it. Gauging it against five cent beer, he guessed it
may be worth around twenty-five dollars. Glades was standing next to
him and he felt her hand touch his back and slowly work its way up,
and back down. He looked at her, embraced her and passionately kissed
her.
When
Mark started heading for home it was almost five in the morning. He
arrived back at his apartment on United Street. The furniture was
entirely different, however. The apartment was largely the same as it
remained to be in the Twenty-First Century, even with the
refrigerator, stove, and fixtures being different. He reached in his
pocket and put the change on the nightstand next to the bed. He hung
his shirt in the closet on metal hangers and draped his pants on the
chair next to the bed, as he's always done.
As
he climbed into bed, he thought to himself “What a weird dream I’m
having,”. All of this was unlike anything else he'd ever
experienced. It was all so real, and the timing was so accurate.
Plus, he could smell things like the cigarette smoke at The Victoria
Restaurant, the musky atmosphere at The Blind Pig/Sloppy Joe's and
Glades’ French perfume. Then again, the sensations of making love
to Glades were so real. However, he was very tired. Sleep came
quickly, in only a matter of seconds.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If
this caught your attention, there are twenty-nine more chapters which
follow, where you can see where
and who Mark Straight's adventures take him to! As of this
writing, the book has twenty-two five star ratings.
Available
on Amazon in both paperback and digital download for Kindle (The
Kindle app is free and available for computers, smart phones,
and tablets). The paperback is available with a free download as
well, however be sure to click the option on the paperback's page!
Thank
you!
Christopher
R. Rehm
("Key West Chris")
https://www.amazon.com/Time-Traveler-Oddities-Adventures-Bartender-ebook/dp/B075QMNRTG/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1527348487&sr=8-4&keywords=time+traveler
("Key West Chris")
https://www.amazon.com/Time-Traveler-Oddities-Adventures-Bartender-ebook/dp/B075QMNRTG/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1527348487&sr=8-4&keywords=time+traveler
