Outside the club, the snow falling over me in light flakes, I give the bouncer my name. He looks over a sheet quickly, makes a check and lets me enter. The club’s warmth fills me and the smell of smoke comes from the long hallway. I pass posters of past acts to grace the stage. It fills me with an ounce of nostalgia, and also the realization that I am not getting old. I am old.
I head to the back of the club to the ‘green room’, where another bouncer checks my name and lets me enter. Sparrow is relaxing on a couch, beer in hand. Two other members of the band, see me, grab their things and leave quickly as if they had previous marching orders.
“Hi Jackson. Glad you came,” Sparrow says as she stands, putting her arms around my neck.
The next thing I know her lips are on mine, warm and sweet. My arms pull her close. I hear the opening band doing their sound check.
1…..2…..3… Microphone check…………..

Back in my apartment, the television blurring me into unconsciousness, I feel the weight of the past couple of days. Somewhere between an old A-team rerun, and the late shows, I doze off. When I wake I see the blinking light from my cell phone. Got a message. Must be from the boss.
I stretch out and slowly hit the buttons to receive my marching orders, but instead the calls from my new friend.
“Hi Jackson, its Sparrow. We are playing tonight in D.C. If you can make it, you’re on the guest list.”
End of message. D.C. is a six hour ride. I look at my watch. Its only 8am. I can make it easily. Why not?
Shower, some grits and eggs, and I’m pulling the Honda out of the alley beside the house. It coughs a little protest before I peel out and head out to the highway. Sparrow Sprite and DC.
A newfound patriotism blooms up in me.