He was going to Sydney to attend the Vivid Festival, which was an extravaganza of lights, music, and entertainment that lit up the city in fluorescent splendor. Flying over the Opera House he
saw it was lit up in a brilliant neon blue, and he couldn’t wait to go inside
and take a look around.
It was still relatively cool, and John put on his cashmere blue suit jacket to hit the
town. After a few months of sobriety he had given himself permission to have a
few drinks on this trip, and he was interested to explore the legend of the
Australian night life.
Walking the few short blocks to The Rocks, he
saw that the whole city was lit up in almost surreal color patterns. Despite
living in Chicago for all those years, he’d never seen anything like it. He had
walked into a completely new world, and it was truly beautiful.
He found his way around the water to the Opera
house and saw thousands of people drinking, listening to music, and enjoying
the evening. It was bustling with life, and he found it all quite contagious. So far he loved Australia.
He entered in to the Fortune of War, which
had the distinction of being the oldest bar in Sydney. He heard the entire bar
signing along to Billy Joel, and knew immediately he had come to the right
place. He was in a social mood, and felt like creating some memories.
He quickly befriended a couple of Irishmen
who had moved to Sydney from the old country, and joined them in their rounds
of Johnny Walker Black. Historically he wasn’t a scotch drinker, and he caught
a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the bar before he took his first
drink. He reminded himself that he wasn’t 21 anymore.
A couple of hours into the night, he had
negotiated his way onto the microphone despite the singer’s initial reservations. In
some of his previous incarnations he’d had a flair for entertaining, and in
that moment decided to regale the crowd with a couple of songs about Chicago.
He was missing the windy city.
He joined a group of Aussies who had let
their ties down after work, and were well on their way of making a night of it.
He found the relaxed, friendly, and hard-drinking Aussies delightful, and was
quickly making friends with the help of his credit card.
One of the woman in the group was rather
striking, and seeing her drinking beer and belting out songs, he was developing
a little crush. His wife had been one of the only women who had that
combination of brains, beauty, and spirit, and he was immediately drawn to her life force. He bought them all a drink and was immediately accepted into the herd.
She grabbed his arm and pushed to the front
of the stage, where a group was gathered around singing “Tiny Dancer” by Elton
John. They quickly joined in and helped belt out the chorus, and locked eyes
together in a smile. It had been years since he’d had such a good time.
After the song, he found his Irish friends at
the bar and bought his round. He had been to Ireland and drunk with the locals,
and one thing he had learned was never to abandon your round when you were
drinking with Irishmen. It was a question of honor.
He looked back into the mirror behind the
bar, and saw he was a bit disheveled and flushed. He turned and saw his
pretty new friend chatting away with her friends, and reminded himself to be
careful. In his past he would have continued to pursue her, but he was trying
to be a little more careful with people, even in this inebriated state.
At closing time the bar was packed, and the
singer asked everyone to come to the stage and join him in a sing-a-long of
“Hey Jude.” Not a single person remained in their seats. He flung his arms
around all of his new Irish and Aussie friends, and belted out the song at the
top of his lungs, along with the rest of the bar. The sound carried so far,
that others in the street began to sing a long outside the bar.
It was a wonderful evening.
It was a wonderful evening.
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