Door One-O-Six Episode Three
Let’s Get The Jam Started Up In Here
By Hilda Agard
Episode Three
Tonight at Door One0Six at Booth 4, the Jam is sizzling, even though the establishment itself is having a slower than usual night. The Winter Olympics are over. Canada is just one medal short of their expected 25. Our Hockey team just couldn’t get it together. Much alike the American team they both forgot their skates here in North America and took their Basketball shoes instead.
Most of the regular staff at Door One0Six are off tonight, even Mystra, the owner has taken the night off leaving Buddy, Shabba and Izalia in charge. So, why hang about, Lets go straight to Booth 4 and get the party started up in there.

Booth 4
This is one of the smaller, cozy booths in the main dining area. There are only six booths like it. Each is located in a dimly lit section of the room and is illuminated by a single electronic dimmable candle. The booths are all designed for intimacy, and are mostly used by couples. Especially those out on first dates like Paul Mondessy and Scharon Nieves who are now occupying booth 4. There are small bits of chitchat between the two, punctuated by the usual uncomfortable silence of couples out on first dates.

Scharon is wearing a knee length tartan skirt with a gray jacket over a light pinkish blouse with a neckline that plunged almost to her waist, exposing her crowded cleavage. Out of nervous embarrassment, whenever her eyes caught a glimpse of Paul sneaking a peek, she uses her left hand and pulls the top of her blouse close in an effort to cover herself up. The drinks on their table are almost as full as when Izalia, first delivered them a half an hour earlier. These two are not really heavy drinkers.

“Where did you say you went to school?� Paul asks, in an effort to keep the lines of communication open.
“University of Guelph.� She replies.
“I wanted to go away to school too, but my parents couldn’t afford it.�
“Neither could mine, but I was lucky enough to get a scholarship.� She apologizes out of politeness, without being sure why she felt it necessary to do so.
“A keener, eh?� Paul ribs her a bit.
“Well look who’s talking, Mr. Articling lawyer.� They both smile. Izalia interrupts the conversation with a tray horsdoeuvres.

“Thank you, but we didn’t order any food.� Paul says apologetically, when the platter loaded with a variety of finger foods is placed on their table. His facial expression is one of nervous surprise; yet, his eyes light up like a child who opens a Christmas gift and it is exactly what the child had wished for, but never really asked for.

‘Oh no, this is courtesy of our establishment.� Izalia says, with a broad smile. At OneOSix’s one of the policies is, if the patrons are not drinking, then give them some free food and guilt them into drinking. Nine point nine nine times out of ten it works.

“Thanks.� Both Paul and Scharon say almost simultaneously.

Then Izalia throws in the kicker, “I’ll take your drinks away and freshened them up, with some ice for you�. And as always, like clock work, the patrons, in this case, Paul and Scharon, both took big gulps of their drinks emptying their glasses, and as if he had read the script, Paul, says, “Just bring us two more please.� Izalia smiles again, picks up their glasses, nods her head to signal to the Bar it is a go and Buddy immediately starts their new drinks in fresh glasses.

“Thank you for bringing me here.� Scharon said, initiating a conversation, daintily holding her caviar topped cracker. Well it isn’t really caviar, but a cheap caviar like substance, worked into a highly seasoned, grainy paste and sprinkled with dollar store “caviar�. It is one of Shabba, the Sous-Chef’s specialties or as she refers to her concoctions, Barbadian ingenuity.

“I thought that you’d enjoy it, here.�
“So do you bring all of the girls you meet on the internet here?�
Paul smiles. He is too embarrassed to tell her that this is his first time ever at OneOSix and that even though he has met many a woman in chat rooms etc she is the first one that he has actually met in person. So he changes the subject.
“Have you been following this whole mess down on the Gulf Coast? Our American branch is handling some of the claims cases.�
“I can’t believe that they still held the Mardi Gras amid all of the ruins and debris. One year, me and a group my friends went down to Mardi Gras, it was the most fun I have ever had south of the border.�
“The closest I have ever gotten to that type of festival, is Caribana here in Toronto, I even danced in the parade, of course I was drunk as a skunk. I always had a dream of going to Brazil’s to carnival, and I am told that Trinidad and Tobago has a very big and colorful one also.�
“Oh I danced on Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras too.� Scharon says animatedly, her voice now much louder than the almost whisper she was using earlier. Then she continues, “Ever seen those ads for girls gone wild, on Late Nite TV? I am sure me and my friends are on some of those tapes.� They both laugh audibly, as they finish the last two mini patties stuffed with spicy crab and lobster meat which, once again were not what they seemed.

Scharon licks the tips of her fingers before she uses the napkin to wipe them. Then she starts again, “But somehow I don’t think that I could feel comfortable being there and whooping it up at this time, it would be like dancing on someone’s grave.�
“Did you know that 1330 people, that they know of, died during the hurricane. There are still 2000 people missing including about 132 children.� Paul says
‘That is so heart breaking, and it is like no one gives damn about whether those kids are alive or where they are, and I bet that the majority of the missing are the poor and nonwhite. Maybe the government should use a fraction of the resources that they are spending to find Bin Laden to find the missing.� Scharon says between sips of her drink.
“And if you think that is bad, the total dollar figure of damage in the Gulf area is $96 billion?� Paul adds.
“Darn! That’s almost the operating budget of all of Canada,� remarks Scharon.

Izalia brings their third round of mixed drinks. Scharon’s inhibitions are now just a memory and the fact that she is almost falling out of her top is not a concern of hers, but is the high light of Paul’s night giving him the courage to slowly attempt some discrete amorous moves. First under the table with his hands on her knees, doing the spider crawl.

Taking a large sip of her fresh drink, Scharon continues, “I saw on one of the All News TV networks, I don’t remember which one, there are so many now. Any way they said that of the $3.27 billion collected by nonprofit groups for the victims $2 Billion has been spent already.�

“ Yeah, yeah, I saw that and from what I heard in the office, there seems to be some confusion about who pays for what. No one is quite certain where the responsibilities of the charities end and where the Feds take over.� Paul says and then takes the opportunity to lean in closer and give Scharon a soft peck on her lips. As he pulls away, she puts both of her arms around his neck, pulls him back towards her and gives him a long, hard, wet kiss.

Paul is not only speechless, but he is also totally stunned by her open mouth kiss. For Paul, it is like driving a formula one car for the first time. First you are at zero and 20 seconds later you are doing over 200 mph. Sheepishly, he slowly pulls away from her, and forces a sort of half smile. What he really wants to do is yell, “Wow!� at the top of his voice. But that would make him look a tad too puerile. So he does the macho thing. He throws his drink down his throat and then fills his chest with air to pump it up and strikes a manly pose. What ever that is. While Scharon, filled to the brim with liquid courage is about as ripe as a Georgia peach in May and with her facial expression and bedroom eyes, it is clearly apparent that, were it not a public place… Oh, Well, you know how and where that ended.

But where have those billions gone and who has benefited? Why are they hundreds of empty trailers rusting away, while former residents are homeless? And why are they still people, mostly poor whites and Blacks scattered all across the country, some not knowing where the next meal is going to come from or where they will be able to call home next week?

So Mardi Gras is over. A reduced number of people, with respect to previous years, forced themselves to have fun. Mostly, I guess, out of tradition. The number of tops that were taken off was also greatly reduced. This year the celebration, for what its worth, however you care to see it, was really a “wake� of sorts. Amid the revelry, there was the constant reminder of destruction, loss of life and broken souvenirs, not beads or trinkets, but homes that once housed people, scattered across the area, all tangible reminders of Mother Natures wrath. We can only speculate about the toll all of this has taken on the minds of those who lived it and endured it.

The Show at Door One0Six continues in Episode Four.
Door One0Six is copyrighted by KHSpringer and may not be copied and distributed without the written permission of both the publisher, KHSpringer and author Hilda Agard.