The Martini Effect – Chapter 18 (Trails, Trials, and Tracks)

18.1

(18.1)

(We rejoin our Dharma Drunk heroes somewhere in Penn Station.)

Marylou and I suddenly find ourselves sitting in a long bar at Penn Station.
No sign of the fox. Or Taxidermy Brian Eno.
Marylou and I can no longer be trusted.
We have reached our stage in the story where some would not-so affectionately call us ‘unreliable narrators.’
Follow us. Just don’t trust us.
It could be the booze.
The hypnotic swirl of Brian Eno’s AMBIENT 1.
It could be the existential longing.
Drinking alcohol can sometimes resemble space/time travel. Like folding the fabric of the space/time continuum.
One moment you’re here.
One moment you’re there.
And you feel you’ve traveled without moving.
It’s like A WRINKLE IN TIME or DUNE with a splash of dry vermouth and/or a cocktail onion.
Speaking of, we order a pair of Gibsons.

Chapter 18.2

(18.2)

The bar is a loving tribute to train travel. The steel circulatory system that first allowed us to travel America coast-to-coast.
The jukebox plays THE STRANGER by Billy Joel.
Space and time have folded and we are now galaxies away from Brian Eno.
Follow us. But don’t trust us.

Chapter 18.3

(18.3)

We sip our Gibsons and ponder the biological ramifications of oysters and Guinness as a potency remedy.
It is slowly becoming that sort of evening.
Einstein said the Universe is curved.
We feel the night becoming a parabola, space and time folding.
Reality twisting.
Is it the booze?
Have we drunk ourselves sober?
So sober we begin to see the Universe as it actually is, not just how we perceive it through our five limited senses.
Did we outrun the fox and Taxidermy Brian Eno only to find ourselves lost and longing in the depths of Penn Station?
Where to now?
Finish these Gibsons.
And then find the trail again.
Follow us. Just don’t trust us.

Our story has curved.

(To be continued…)