"Huh?!" Jerked my head up. Shook the moment of dream from my mind. Blinked."Hey, guy, I'm sorry, were you asleep?"
"Yeh, I guess I was. Oh - Jim! How are you?" I stuck my hand out to my friend from church, "You made it down for the show, eh?"
"Uh-huh." He took my hand in his usual warm clasp. I gazed up into his blue eyes. What a handsome devil he is. Blond hair tied back behind his head. Clean shaven, firm cheekbones. Pleasant, almost mischievous smile. Tall. "Hope I'm not late," he said, "it seems awful quiet around here."
I laughed. "Yeah." Stood up. Looked over at the cops. Asked them, "How long was I asleep?"
The sergeant shook his head, "Didn't know you were. You only had your head down for a minute or two."
Introduced my friend to the cops. We all chatted for a moment about problems with drug dealers in a cheap hotel a block from our church. Turned out some of the officers know the two detectives who came to several meetings we held earlier this year. Still groggy from half-sleep, I began to suffer intense deja vu and small world flashes.
The cop radios squawked from time to time. There were still protesters up at Horton Plaza. I wondered if anything had happened at the Convention Center with the main part of the march. Realized that was probably all under control, and Horton Plaza was the unexpected event.
"Stand by / we're standing by / 10-4.""Danial?" Sargeant Davidson asked, "Do you feel all right here? We're thinking about taking most of the squad up to 2nd & Broadway, and if everything's okay there, then over to the USO. We'll be leaving three officers here. I don't think anything's going to happen."
"Oh... I don't either. Sure. I'll be fine."
"You got this next group signed in already."
"Oh yeah."
"So you can leave anytime you want. There will be three officers here, and more nearby."
"Sounds good to me, John."
"Good." He turned to a couple of the other officers, who would be staying with me, "there's another squad car here you can use in case anything happens."
"Something happens, yeah, sure, like what? No, sarge, what you mean is you guys ain't coming back for us." He laughed at Davidson, then gestured at the others who were leaving, "I hope you guys eat yourself to death!"
GOOD EVENING, EVERYONE. SOCIAL COMMENTARY WILL BEGINING VERY SHORTLY. PLEASE STAND BY... STILL GETTING READY.
"Not a good sign," Jim said to me, "if they aren't even ready to perform. How much time do they have?""Fifty-five minutes." I glanced at my watch. "They just got the green light a couple seconds ago."
"Let's walk down by the stage, or... do you have to stay here in the tent?"
"No, it's cool." I smiled at the two officers. They nodded back.
"Seems pretty mellow work," Jim remarked as we wandered down the half-empty path toward the stage, "but then, they're not paying you anything, are they?"
"Nope. Nada. Zilch. But..." I waved this notebook at him, "I am writing a shitload of notes."
"Ah. Going to put together a book or something?"
"Ummmm..." Now there's an idea. Go beyond the internet journal. Go over-paper into Book. "Yeah, maybe. First I just want to write the damn thing. A journal of what happens here. I'm gonna post it on my web page."
"All right. You'll have to give me the address."
HELLO EVERYONE. WELL, WE ARE STAGE LEFT POLITICAL THEATER GROUP. WE WERE FOUNDED FIFTEEN YEARS AGO, AND WERE ORIGINALLY A GROUP OF PEOPLE BROUGHT TOGETHER IN ORDER TO OPPOSE THE BUILDING OF THE NEW NAVAL HOSPITAL IN BALBOA PARK.
Nothing particularly funny about that. Jim glances at me. Even his usual smile has faded. We lean back against the low fence that lines the disabled access path, watch the nearby stage.
WE DECIDED TO GET BACK TOGETHER WHEN WE HEARD THE REPUBLICAN NATIONAL CONVENTION WAS COMING TO TOWN....
I look around the lot: zone. Barely a dozen people. Back at the gate, there are more people just wandering the streets. Nine o'clock. The evening session of the convention has let out, and delegates are cruising the gaslamp. Some of them have walked the block away from Fifth, gaze in the gates.
THEN THE REPUBLICANS DECIDED THEY DIDN'T LIKE HAVING THE PROTEST ZONE HERE, RIGHT ACROSS THE TRACKS FROM THE CONVENTION CENTER. THEY TRIED TO HAVE IT MOVED THREE BLOCKS DOWN HARBOR DRIVE, OFF WHERE NO ONE COULD SEE OR HEAR THE SPEECHES. BUT THE CITY AND THE A.C.L.U. WENT TO COURT WITH THE COOPERATION OF THE POLICE, AND THE COURT RULED THAT THIS WAS THE SITE, RIGHT HERE.
"Is that true?""Yeh, Jim, pretty much so."
"Hmmm. Guess I heard something about it in the papers, but didn't really pay much attention. These guys are the comedians, right?"
"Ummm... I think so. But... so far...."
"Yeh. Not."
"Oh wait a minute, someone else is taking the microphone...."
HI! HOW YOU DOIN? OKAY? OKAY. HEY, YOU MIGHT NOTICE I DRESSED UP TONIGHT - SEE MY SUIT? YEAH. WELL, I BOUGHT THIS SUIT FOR WEDDINGS, FUNERALS, AND WHEN BOB DOLE'S IN TOWN! BA-DA-BING!
Silence. Jim looks at me. Shakes his head.
Seven or eight "jokes" later, each equally "funny" and each more and more tasteless: "Danial, I think I should just go home and get some sleep."
"Oh yes. I'm thinking about that myself.""Unless you think they will actually get funnier?"
"Jim, I'm so exhausted I don't think I would know funny if it walked up and slapped me across the face with a great big rainbow trout."
"Heh heh."
Of course, the "Table" of Contents remains available.