THE COMEDIAN AND HIS MUSE (continued)<br/><br/>This unbelievably beautiful woman, Thalia, smiles at me and I literally need to steady myself by putting a hand on the counter of the bar as my knees seemingly turn to water. There was once a woman, a long time ago, back when I was in Army basic training, that smiled at me in a crowded room and I felt light-headed. This is magnitudes greater. Recovering, I become more steady. My heart is beating strongly and more excitedly than it has in years. Her looks are the things of young men’s dreams: the face, the hair, the eyes, the promise of her figure under the silken dress….<br/><br/><br/>I tell myself to be a gentleman and look her in the eyes, those deep beautiful eyes, instead of having my eyes wander over every inch of her. Then I give a soft chuckle at her question, I mean that normally this question, this line, is muttered by some guy looking to spend some time with a beautiful girl. Like an older guy to some young social ingénue and she’s turned it around. This line goes back to when I was young or maybe just a gleam in the eyes of my father, or farther back. And Thalia delivers it perfectly. I have to give her a big smile and I do.<br/><br/><br/>Thalia called me a ‘boy’ and I decide to work with that, just to play it for laughs. I answer her in my best innocent young man voice, “Golly, Miss Thalia, anyone who’s anyone in show-biz knows that playing at Dion’s is the chance of a lifetime! Better than Broadway or even Hollywood! Gee! Whiz!”<br/><br/><br/>I drop the falsetto, but continue this little confession, saying, “Playing at Dion’s is kind of an urban legend. Somebody knew someone who knew another somebody that knew a performer, sometimes a musician or sometimes a comic, that played here and that performance becomes their most cherished artistic memory. Thing is, if you have an agent and ask them to book you at Dion’s, the agent just seems to forget about it and finds some other show for you. That’s the story.”<br/><br/><br/>Thalia is a good listener. Her eyes signal me to keep going, so I do.<br/><br/><br/>“So, I came in here to…,” I stutter just a tiny bit and find my voice again, “…to touch that dream and imagine what it would be like.”<br/><br/><br/>I take a couple more sips of the wine, debina, I need remember the name and buy this wine to have at home.<br/><br/><br/>After the sipping, I then say, “When I was growing up, I loved stories, tall tales, ‘what-ifs’ and the people who could make other people laugh. I could recite the lines and bits of the people that I considered were the comedic giants, I even searched through archives of material from before I was born. I never found a partner for an act, so I concentrated on the solo artists like Lenny, Bill, George, Robin and Sam. Don, and Rodney, not so much, but I salute them, too.”<br/><br/><br/>From the corner of my eye, I see the band on stage. The quintet’s opening song is soft and beautiful, whispering for the attention of the room rather than demanding it. The singer, a girl with the looks of a tropical Pacific islander, arrives on the stage and begins singing, “Like Someone in Love”.<br/><br/><br/>“The thing that I lacked,” I went on, “was experiences, plural. So, over the years, I piled up lots of every day, some adventurous, some ridiculous experiences, while living a typical working-class life. Then I began writing things down, speculating what things really mean and how best to exaggerate. My late wife, Janie, believed in my talent….” I raised my glass in a salute to her, wherever she was, hoping for the best.<br/><br/><br/>Thalia’s watching me, listening, taking it all in. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong by mentioning Janie.<br/><br/><br/>“Sorry,” I say.<br/><br/><br/>(to be continued)