The Long Journey

It was the first really cold night of the season, and my friend Maqui wanted to go see a band play. I had leftover beef  bourguignon simmering on the stove, furnished with the bottle of Maker's Mark in amber shot glasses that vaguely looked like tiny wine glasses...lending an air of a bit more class to my tiny kitchen, comfortably snug and closed against the bitter wind out side that carried a scent of snow... ( yes, I can smell snow and rain and am right 98.5% of the time....)
My friend arrived, flushed from the walk UP my big hill, and the chilled wind pinked her olive skinned cheeks. Her big smile and hug made me so happy she had suggested this. We sat a talked for about an hour, imbibing and giggling and pulling the veil of relationships and the universe back a bit.

Afterwards we wandered down the street to the bar this was being held at. I admit, not where I expected this kind of music to be hosted from..... We got another round, chatted at the bar, and she very smoothly saved me from a drunk hipster wanna be who stopped talking about how familiar I looked and started talking about how good I looked. ( I was never good at that...I just rudely get up and leave...) We sat front row, and the band struck up... fiddle, guitar, bass and accordion harmonizing in an older style. All the sudden I was transported back to a cafe in Paris, wine in hand (except it was Maker's again), music pouring from the streets and in this dusky amber light, in this back room of the bar, I could almost be back there. It was exhilarating!
Then my friend nudged me and whispered..." I want to know Shaft's story!" I looked over her shoulder to where she nodded and there in the dark corner of the room, sat a be-speckled with dark shades and large fur coat wearing, man. He broodily but energetically tapped along to the music. Then with a nod from the main fiddle player he stood to his long lanky probably about 6'5" height and shed the coat. Immaculately dressed in black from head to toe, only furthered our suspicion the he could be a vampire. Then he unpacked his saxophone, and joined in the fray! Very talented musician and dresser!
I wandered home late that night the music still in my ears, pulled my coat a bit closer around me against the wind and smiled. Midnight in Pittsburgh...such fun.