On the second night of the Port Chester gig, high as a kite and feeling good, with the briefcase stashed and everything in order, I wandered back into the auditorium. The place was cooking, literally —it felt as hot as a baker’s oven. The same policeman in full uniform uniform I had seen earlier now stood at the side of the room with his back to a wall. Immediately in front of him, a couple of thousand delirious hippies were having the time of their lives. I wandered across to say hello. I introduced myself, showing him my security pass, and asked how he was doing. He remembered me from before, but seemed a little friendlier this time. “Man, I been here for over two hours and I’m sweatin’ and I ain’t had nothin’ to drink and I need a break,” he told me. I smiled at him.
“You fancy a beer? I’ll get you a beer if you want one.”
He looked horrified. “Man, it’s more than my life’s worth to drink a beer. I’m on duty.”
I sighed sympathetically and apologized, saying, “Of course you are, sorry about that. Anyway, what d’you think of the show?”
He smiled. “That’s one hell of a band you got there; the acoustic set was great.” I thought to myself, well, at least he likes the music. He motioned with his arm to the kids boogying like mad in the auditorium. “Nice buncha kids, no problems here, these kids are having fun.”
I looked at him and smiled. “Tell you what, buddy, I know you’re on duty, but you surely could drink a Coca-Cola, couldn’t you?”
He sighed. “You know what, I’d love one, but before we came on duty we had a briefing from the captain and he told us all not to touch anything, ’cos it was likely to be contaminated with that LSD.”
I was as high as the Empire State Building, and I smiled at him again. “Seems a pity a man can’t have a drink on such a hot night.”He nodded and looked glum. I pretended to have a flash of inspiration.
“Tell you what. I could get you a Coca-Cola unopened. That way you’d be safe. There’s no way anyone can mess with a Coca-Cola in an unopened can. You can open it yourself.”
“You know what,” he said, “I reckon that would be okay.” I fetched a cold drink from the garbage can that stood on the stage and wiped away the excess water. Between the tab and the lip of the can a small drop of magic was applied, and I wandered back into the auditorium to find my thirsty policeman. I handed him the unopened can and he pulled the tab and drank with a gasp of satisfaction.
I gave him a wink and told him, “You want another one, you just let me know.” I leaned against the wall with my new best buddy and looked at the audience, checking out the view. A short time passed and the policeman took off his hat. Then he loosened his tie. It was, after all, really hot in the building. “Would you like another Coke?” I asked and he nodded appreciatively. I wandered backstage and grabbed a couple, though it was no longer necessary for the magic ingredient to be applied. He smiled as I handed him the Cokes and nodded toward the audience.
Less than five feet away, a lovely girl danced. She moved like a flower that stands in a soft breeze, her arms like petals wandering above her head, and her whole being shining with a serene light. She danced for herself; she danced for creation; she danced with the music; and she danced quite naturally and effortlessly for the policeman, who thought of himself for once as the luckiest man in the world.
I returned backstage to stand behind the amplifiers, to lose myself in the music of the gods and to relax. Over the stage apron I could see the policeman: he was smiling. In front of him, several beautiful girls were dancing as if for his pleasure. He was like a Pasha with his harem. He was no longer the outsider but was now the same as all of us in the auditorium, at one with the people and the music. Garcia noticed the cop and smiled knowingly at me. I grinned to myself as a voice in my head softly whispered the words: “Game, set, and match.”
― Luna Schlosser, Thursday, 17 August 2017 16:18 (six years ago) link