another quiet night in bob’s bowery bar.
it had snowed most of the day, the snow had turned to rain, the streets and sidewalks were filled with snow and slush, and a cold drizzle continued to fall .
a few hardy souls who were brave enough or desperate enough for the warmth and camaraderie of bob’s, or who lived next door, had gotten through.
bob was working the bar himself.
sammy the schmuck and philosopher dave were seated at opposite ends of the bar, feeling sorry for themselves.
seamas mcseamas the irish poet and frank x fagen the nature poet were the only occupants of the poets’ table. seamas had an especially terrible hangover and was in no mood to talk, and frank x fagen was respecting his disinclination.
silent sam was sitting alone in his corner.
“mona lisa” by nat king cole was playing softly on the jukebox.
the door opened and a stranger walked in.
he was an ordinary enough looking fellow, with a round pink face. he seemed to have a fixed smile on his face, but that is common enough on people finding themselves among strangers, even just strangers in a bar.
he took a seat at the middle of the bar, with his back to the poets’ table.
“what’ll you have? “ bob asked.
“what will i have?’ the stranger repeated, in a loud voice that carried across the room, and caused frank x fagen to look up and seamas mcseamas to wince. “let me see, what will i have? that is a question, isn’t it? think of all the wonderful choices available to me!”
“we have the choices available in most establishments like this,” bob told him.
“i think i will have a scotch and soda,” the stranger said. “yes, indeed , a scotch and soda! i have heard so much about scotch and sodas, i think i will embark on the great adventure of actually tasting a scotch snd soda!”
“one scotch and soda coming up,” bob assured him. “any particular brand you prefer?”
“no! surprise me! make it an adventure!”
sammy the schmuck , who had been seated three stools to the newcomer’s right, near the door, now moved over next to him.
“you seem to have a rather broad definition of the word ‘adventure’, my friend,” sammy observed.
“not at all, sir, ” the stranger replied, seeming in no way daunted or resentful at sammy’s intrusion, “it is the rest of the world that does not appreciate how great an adventure life us. do you not agree?”
“agree on what?” sammy asked.
“that life is a great adventure.”
“maybe. sometimes.”
“take myself, for example,” the stranger continued in his loud voice, which had caused even silent sam in his corner to turn and stare. “this evening i suddenly found myself a few blocks from here, with the wind and rain in my face. it suddenly occurred to me that the bowery was only three blocks away, in the direction the wind was blowing. i had heard so much about the bowery, a street famous all over the world yet had never actually set foot on it. here, i thought, is my chance to taste a new experience, a chance i may never have again. “
“and are you enjoying your experience?” sammy asked.
“indeed i am. the wind and rain only added to the glorious feeling of anticipation as i approached this place, and now - the warmth - the light - the exquisite glow of this scotch and soda trickling down my gizzard - life is good!”
frank x fagen now got up from the poet’s table and seated himself at the stranger’s left.
“i could not help overhearing, “ frank began with a smile, “your most interesting conversation. do you mind if i join you?”
“not at all, not at all,” the stranger replied. “i am at your service.”
“tell me,” frank asked, “what are some of your other memorable adventures in this adventurous world?”
“that is difficult to say, there are so many of them. my first day of school, at william henry harrison elementary school, that certainly stands out…”. the stranger paused, seemingly lost in thought.
“did you want a drink, frank? “ bob interjected.
“uh…” frank looked at the stranger, hoping he would offer to buy one, but he did not. “the usual.”
the stranger continued, in a more normal tone of voice. “and of course, my first day of work as a mail clerk at the great northern snd southern insurance company! what an experience that was!…”
“mona lisa” by nat king cole had stopped playing on the jukebox, and philosopher dave got up and played it agan.
“… and how could i ever forget the first time i got up my courage to purchase a ticket to minsky’s burlesque. i picked a particularly snowy night, hoping thereby to lessen the chances of meeting anyone from the company… how long ago it seems now…”
the stranger continued on in this way, though without offering to buy either sammy or frank a drink.
at the end of the bar, connie the waitress pointed to the sign advertising the next day’s luncheon special - bob’s mom’s own super hot chili con carne with sour cream.
“if he is really adventurous, he should try that,” she said to philosopher dave, but not so loudly that bob might hear her, as he could occasionally be sensitive to comments on mom’s cooking.
the visit of the stranger, who never offered his name and was dubbed “the adventurer” was the subject of conversation for a few days, and it was wondered if he would ever show up again.
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