We took a break in the middle of the week to head to Orlando to Universal with Dennie and Tom.
Stayed at the Portofino and sailed to the park in the morning. Drank butter beer, saw Blues Brothers, had Margaritas at Jimmy Buffet's, ate at Emeril's, shot aliens at MIB
Look at these people crowding my beach!
Beautiful day and I spent most of it on the porch back at my computer working on the Sammy novel.
It was so nice to get another week to do this because I'm now at 25,000 words (about halfway done).
By the way thanks for your suggestions on where Sammy could go on his adventure. I'm going to use some of them.
Here's another chapter (Sammy's first Stop) :
“Can I see your Driver’s License, Mr. Finklestein?” asked Raul, the front desk manager of the Roosevelt Hotel.
Sammy didn’t think of this when he was collecting bogus credit cards and making his plans for escape. Crap. I have no identification. “Son … I haven’t driven in 10 years. My son makes sure of that. Gave up my license years ago.”
“Any ID?” Raul asked.
“Only my credit card I’m afraid.”
“I see.” Raul handed him back his card. “I am sorry sir … really can’t …”
“Not a problem my friend. I understand.” Sammy hoisted his backpack and headed into the Sazerac Bar. He shuffled into one of the low tables in the corner, folded his trusty old walker with the worn out tennis balls and collapsed into the leather chair. He reached down and opened his backpack and pulled out the powder blue urn, placing it gently right next to his oversized bar menu. “Esther … looks like we are not gonna see the inside of one of those Roosevelt Hotel rooms. So let’s just have a drink at the Sazerac for now and I’ll get us another place to stay.”
Caesar, the bartender, was taking this all in from his station listening intently. He came up to the table. “What can I get for you sir?”
“Old Fashioned for me, thx.” Sammy winked.
“And for …” Caesar nodded to the urn. “The lady?”
“Why she will do the Sazerac of course.”
Caesar had done this job a long time. He knew better than to ask a lot of questions … especially to an old man talking to an urn and ordering it a drink. He smiled to himself. He figured it out right away. Wife passed away, lonely widower can’t part with her and brings her to their favorite place for one last drink.
Close … but no cigar.
Caesar stepped behind the elegant bar to mix the cocktails. The Sazerac is one of the oldest and best known bars in New Orleans. Named for the first ever mixed drink, the Sazerac was visited by the famous and infamous. Governor Huey Long (The Kingfish) would visit regularly as well as countless celebrities who played the hotel’s Blue Room like Louis Armstrong, Ray Charles and Frank Sinatra.
In about four hours … it would be packed with patrons but for now it was just Caesar and Sammy … and Esther.
Caesar stepped up to the table and served Sammy first. “Sir.” Then he reached over and placed the Sazerac in front of the urn. “Madam.”
“Thank you.” Sammy looked at his name tag. “Caesar.”
“My pleasure.” Caesar continued. The curiosity got the best of him. “If I might be so bold … can I ask what was her name?”
“Your … wife?”
“I’m sure she was a lovely person.”
Sammy took a long sip of his Old Fashioned. “Actually, she was a real bitch.”
Caesar was silent.
“It’s okay Caesar. The great thing about being 86 years old is that it frees you up to say all the things that you couldn’t when you were 40. Plus … she’s dead you know? I can actually get a few words in.” Sammy smiled that semi toothless smile where his dentures were missing. “You married?”
“Yes I am.”
Sammy motioned him closer. “I’m sure she’s a lovely woman.”
Caesar looked around as if she might be behind him. “Actually … she’s kind of a bitch.”
They both laughed loudly.
“Caesar … let me buy you a drink. This one’s on Ira Finklestein.”
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