Storytime Bar

My teacher once told us a story of a man who found himself stuck in a commercial freezer for 30 hours and survived. As I walk down this icy road attempting to pull this poor woolen blanket even tighter around my frozen shoulders--if that's possible, I feel absolutely zero hope for myself. How did that man survive? How the hell did he live like this for 30 hours? 

My feet are completely numb, and so I close my eyes. Maybe I can sleep while I walk along this icy road. I hold on to the blanket even tighter as I trip on a small stone catching myself right before I lose my balance, "What a stupid idea!" My eyes open and squint at the same time, trying desperately to will any form of warm shelter into my view. My cold frozen heart picks up speed when a small lonesome building on the side of the road comes into view. I get closer walking a lot faster now, and a sign with the name, "Storytime Bar." sharpens into my line of sight. I don't care about the sign, all I care about right now is Warm. Warm Warm Warm.

Goosebumps roll up my and down arm as my hand touches the cold metal door handle. There is a moment of confusion when pulling on the handle. Oh ok, My frozen brain registers the fact that THIS specific door pushes in. I walk into a large room, and I am embraced with warm air. It's almost stifling in its intensity, but to my blissful pleasure, it surrounds me, warming my frozen flesh. I breathe in all the rooms warmness, and my legs don't fully work anymore. I simply stand there. Maybe I am in shock.

A tall man in his mid-thirties and an exceptionally well-trimmed black beard walks towards me. I right away notice his olive-toned skin when he stops in front of me and begins talking to me, "Hey, miss, why the blanket? Fascinating choice of fashion, I must say." He grins and shakes his head as if he's in on some private joke. "So, you are here for story night?" When he holds up a sign-in sheet to my face, I notice he has about two to three rings on each of his beautifully structured fingers. I wonder if any of the rings are a marriage band. "Would you like to put your name on the sign-in sheet?" I again get distracted by his bright green eyes, so in contrast with the color of his skin and dark beard. What it would be like to have the ability to paint. I absentmindedly take the pen and can't help but be disappointed in myself. For at this moment, my signature is on some paper in a Bar in upstate NY. Great. 

I walk to the bar and order a hot coffee. Knowing full well that I will regret this decision in just a few hours. When no matter how much sleep my body is lacking, my eyes will stay open, and bliss won't show me its glorious face. Yet, when the warm, creamy, strong coffee hits my lips, all and any rational reasoning is oh so lost.

I slide into a chair by a table and just allow my toes and fingers to thaw. My hands are warming up from the coffee yet, my feet just seem to be getting colder. I guess the cold is trapped in these All-Stars. I look around, surprised to see about 30-40 people sitting around chatting. From the outside, this bar seemed so isolated.

I bend down to remove my socks and shoes and sit cross-legged on the chair, holding the hot coffee to my feet as I allow the coffee to warm them. 

I jump a bit when I hear a loud "Ladies and gentlemen!" over a microphone.

Hu? I turn around to see the Handsome devil from earlier standing on some sort of stage that, in my frigid state, I did not notice was there! 

His free arm extends to incircle the room "Tonight is story night! Welcome, Every one!"

The crowd goes nuts.

"As all of you remember, every Wednesday is Story night!" 

Crowd cheers, Handsome laughs, "Yes, yes, yes, aren't we all looking forward to some good stories!" 

The crowd licks up his words with a loud "Waaaaahooooo."

"Ok, quiet down, we have three stories coming up. Are you all ready to hear tonight's theme?" The crowd goes insane while Handsome tries quieting the crowd with his free hand. "Ok ok, quiet down my friends, tonight's theme is...." Handsome takes a big breath here, and the bar becomes pin-drop silent. "Are you ready?" Crowd cheers again.

"The theme tonight is...His voice raizes about ten octaves, "What was I thinking?"

Again, the crowd goes absolutely nuts.

"For your new peeps, let me explain. I will be choosing three names from the sign-in sheet."

Oh. Ok.

"Each one of you will come up and tell a story about a moment in time when you questioned your sanity."

Like this moment?

"The best story and storyteller will receive 1000 bucks!"

My coffee slips just a bit, and my hand feels warm from the coffee and then suddenly cold again. Wow, I so did NOT see that coming. $1000 bucks? I could use $1000 bucks, I can definitely use 1000 bucks. Hell, I could use 5 BUCKS right now.

"Now, here are the rules. You get 2 minutes to come up with something interesting. No story? No Money."

Makes sense; with that much money on the line, there has to be some sort of challenge involved.

"If all three story's suck, then Storytime puts the money into buying some more beer so that you guys can come here and buy said beer."

He pauses there for effect expecting a laughing audience-- which to my horror he gets.

"Last but not least, the story must be true, we will be verifying"

Sheesh!

"Ok, time to pick the first storyteller!"

I take another sip of my coffee, place the mug back on my toes. When to my absolute and complete terror, I hear, "Emily Smatthis!"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

That's me. Yes, that. Is. Me.

"Where are you at Emily?"

Handsome looks around and spots me sitting away from the crowd all by my lonesome self. I see those piercing green eyes from where I am sitting, light up."There you are! He waves his hand, motioning me towards the stage, "come on up!"

At that moment, I realized one thing and one thing only. I would so love to have 1000 dollars right now. So so love it.

That thought takes my legs from its pretzel position and moves them towards the stage. That is the only thing that drives me. Yes, I like money, I like money a lot.

"Hello Emily, welcome to our stage!" Handsome looks down and stops there. "May I ask?" His head tilts to the side while the mic is still in his hand. "Where are your shoes?"

I look down, "oh" is all I can muster, and then I continue, "My feet were cold."

"And that helped?"

"Do you want me to tell a story or not?"

He chuckles, "Only if you want to." He grins at me while lifting a single eyebrow. 

Bastard. 

"Yes," I say, "I would like to."

"Right on!" Somehow his grin gets even wider. "You have two minutes to gather your thoughts, and then my friend, it is showtime!"

"Yea yea yea, I remember the rules."

 I take the mic from Handsome, close my eyes. I take in a deep breath

while my mind processes some information, I need 30 seconds --that's all.

"Hello, people of this wonderful cold city, my name is Emily."

The crowd fucking goes crazy.

You may be wondering why I am wearing a T-shirt and shorts in this below 30-degree weather.

Well, I know it's weird, but it's all part of this story, so you are going to have to hear me out."

Again, the crowd goes nuts

"You are also going to have to let me tell the story." Silence. "Good, now I can begin."

Three months ago, a client booked me for a project that would take a full two weeks. It was a project that would need my utmost attention, and so I cleared my calendar. Today would be the third day working on this project.

So why am I here, you ask? Well, that is a fantastic question."

My voice became a soothing chant to my ears, and eventually, I was back to the days before this day when my cell phone rang at 2:00 am.

Who calls someone at 2:00? The more important question I should be asking myself is: who picks up??

"Emily?"

"Yes" 

"Hi, my name is Richard Roy. I am calling on behalf of your client this week, Janis May."

I sit up onto my bed, "What's up? We aren't supposed to begin working until tomorrow."

The fella on the other end of the line clears his throat before he continues. "I am so terribly sorry to say this, but unfortunately, Janis had a heart attack last night--she passed away."

"Oh common," I scoff, "Janis is like in her 50's that's not even possible!"

"Anyway," He continues--in a more condescending voice now. "Obviously, Janis won't be needing your services any longer. I just wanted to inform you. Ok, bye." 

"WHAT?"

I jump off my bed as I scream, "WAIT, DO NOT HANG UP!" I am too late. I spend the next two hours trying to get the guy back onto the phone with no luck.

It's 5:00am, and I realize I have nothing to do for a full week, I have no money, and I haven't been out of this humid city in years.

I would say that the next thing I did was a conscious decision, yet now I am not so sure.

I run to my kitchen, grab a coffee, my MacBook, my camera, a notebook, jump into my car, and start driving. I drive for three hours out of the city before my stomach starts to grumble, and I realize I'm starving.

After I eat myself sick, I jump back into the car and continue to drive. 

While I'm driving, I recall a conversation I had back in the day with a friend who told me that once you get to the I-95, you can just drive straight to New York. I put New York in my maps like I am a robot on autopilot, and drive. I drive throughout the day, only stopping for gas, bathroom, and food. I'm in some sort of haze, but its 12 hours later and I am still wide awake. I have no idea where on the map I am, but I keep going. 

26 hours later, I hit the city, and my first thought is, fuck this, I want trees! So I keep driving still, towards upstate NY. After the 35 hour mark, I begin to get tired. I look out the window and panic--just a bit when I take in the complete darkness around me. At the moment, the car starts to slow, and I realize I'm on empty. I know when my brain registers just how much trouble I am in when I start to feel the cold air enter the car. No amount of blankets that I find in the trunk will keep me warm- though that doesn't mean I don't try.

I leave the car and start walking. Hoping to either find a gas station or someplace warm.

Probably be the stupidest thing I've done all day. Because this cold is something, I have never experienced before. I walk and walk thinking there must be something around somewhere--there must be. But no. I wish for my legs to be shorter so I could possibly feel less cold on my skin. I wish for my hair to be longer, so maybe it would warm my neck. But most of all, I wish for death. I close my eyes as I continue walking, wondering if one could possibly fall asleep while walking, and when I open them, I see this place. I sign my name on a paper, am introduced to Hansome right here, and now I am standing in front of you wondering how on earth I am still awake.

The crowd comes back into my focus. I listen to the roar of there cheers. Though my eyes start to blur and I can't see much anymore.

Handsome walks over to me, all grin and shining eyes. He takes my hand--I think to shake it, I am not sure. I can't let go. He looks into my eyes, "Who is handsome?" "You are," I say. He tilts his head back as he laughs. His laugh sounds like a thunderous roar. When he calms down, he looks at me again, "I gotta tell you, girl, you aren't the greatest storyteller, but you are a bit cray cray." His face starts to double. He's so pretty, my knight in shining armor. What's wrong with him? What's going on? Oh, when did my face get so close to his sweater? I hear a crack, and I assume my head clashed with his chin when my feet are not there anymore. Everything is fading to blackness. I allow it, but also as I disappear I mumble. "I love you, but did I win?"