I Couldn't Believe My New Found Luck

Everything was looking up, I was given new hope...Issue #91

ifOnlyi… could explain how I get to move in with a flight attendant, get along with the flight attendant, dance with the flight attendant, have the flight attendant introduce me to the owner of a private night club, and get an interview to work there. How? It had to be a Miracle!

Today, Karen, the flight attendant, pulled up in front of the copper’s house. It was a great sign that her roommate said yes, I could stay with them. Then Karen said, “Load up the luggage, Ollie; you're coming with me!”

I could not have been happier and relieved; the endless beer and cigarettes lifestyle was now behind me. Sleep and some normality were ahead for me—the perfect combination. At Last!

Karen seemed as excited to see me as I was her. She drove that white VW Beetle like Ricky Racer. I had enjoyed my own 1967 VW Bug in California a few years earlier, so it was great being back in one, although mine was Red.

We arrived at the apartment, and I learned she was renting one of her rooms. It was a two-bedroom, two-bathroom place. It was comfortably decorated but not glamorous, and I quickly noticed it had a couch. Happy days and nights for me.

Karen asked if I was hungry, and I was. “Let’s eat,” she said. Okay, leave your bags and we’ll go out. Oh no, I thought. My cash was shrinking by the day, but I could buy lunch for us on the faithful American Express Credit Card, which would be grand.

We sat for hours talking, having a few drinks, and getting to know each other at a swift pace. I think we were bonding! I know we were bonding!

Karen asked if I would like to go out dancing at a private membership club for the night. “HELL YES,” I QUICKLY REPLIED. Good times were ready to roll, and I felt I was now in Australia. Fun times were about to begin, but I had to come clean.

I opened up and told her about my financial struggles and my need to get a job. “Okay,” she replied. I have my American Express and a few dollars in cash, but I need to work as soon as possible. That was one thing I wasn’t afraid to do.

The Australian General Council’s office in Los Angeles fully approved me for a business in the country. I had presented a complete business plan to them, and they loved it. If Dad had approved, I would’ve had a working visa that came with it. However, Dad already had an Australian distributor, which I was unaware of beforehand.

Karen was most accepting that I had come clean with my situation and said she would try to help me. Can you believe my luck?

1. A new place to sleep comfortably for more than three hours.

2. A new friend

3. Someone who understands my current situation

4. A person willing to help me find work

5. A driver

6. Someone who likes to dance and is a Private club member, oh yeah!

7. No pressure to suck up smoke and share two dozen beers nightly.

I was truly at ease for the first time since arriving in Sydney. It’s been shy of a week of real stress on a foreign continent since my arrival. I was so looking forward to going out that night.

Having read some of my earlier stories, you know I love, love, love to dance. I was still in my disco era and had taken months and months of lessons and practices for tonight’s outing.

We came back home after lunch and had a rest. It’s easy to pass out in this country, I thought. After a few long, well-needed hours of sleep, I was awakened by Karen saying. “Ollie, I want you to meet my roommate, Rory.” I jumped up from the couch and shook his hand, saying thank you, what felt like 100 times, for letting me crash here for a few nights. ( I had no idea how long that meant, but it sounded good.) Rory replied, “Nice to meet you, Ollie.”

He scrambled off to his room. He was a quiet man; nothing too exciting for him. I would later find out he had his routines.

Karen said we should shower and freshen up, as she wanted to go out around nine. The club opened the front executive lounge and the dining room at 6 pm. Karen mentioned that it was a 5-star restaurant, but it was tough to get into. You had to be a member to eat, too. Believe me, I wasn’t going to ask or try!

I was going to dress my best. I was burnt out wearing jeans and tennis shoes. Karen poured us some Jim Beam and Cokes to drink and put on some dancing music. I was FIRED UP!

As we drove over the Sydney Bridge, I was in total AWE. Here I am, looking at the view, the lights, and the coastline. I wanted Karen to stop on the bridge so I could take it all in, but that wouldn’t happen. I was way too excited and needed to calm down. It’s the first night, look at meeeee. I didn’t bring my camera, but I thought there would be more time ahead for pictures.

We arrived and walked to the club, near where we had parked the VW. Karen pulled out a small, brown keychain with the words "ROGUES" written on it as we waited in the long line for members to get in.

Karen spoke with the man at the door and called him Lee, saying hello and hoping all was well as they went in. He gave me a look as though he wondered what planet I came from. I was truly tan as I had been in the sunshine and on the beaches of Sunny California daily, body surfing and working in the family’s garden.

It was winter in July in Australia, so where did this tan dude come from? He thought as we walked inside.

“Holy cow, Karen,” I screeched out. “This place is fabulous. Look at that bar!” It was like something out of the Ritz-Carlton’s finest, all polished brass railing around top and bottom. Beautiful polished dark wood, I will never forget the wonderful jazz music playing in the shadows. I thought to myself Disco music, I must have misunderstood. I offered to buy us drinks, walked up, ordered her favorite, and admired their talent, how they served, and even put on a small show.

It was more than I imagined. There were plush chairs and tables, perfectly dimmed lighting, and the subtle whispers of people talking could barely be heard.

I asked Karen if this was the disco, as we had found a table. "Oh no, Ollie." She pointed out the restaurant behind the doors and then turned around to say that the disco was behind us.

She offered me a cigarette, and as a “non-smoker,” I was pleased to have one. As I lit hers, I asked, “Is this a place you come often?” “Yes, if I’m in town and off for a few days, it’s the best place to be,” she replied. “That’s for sure,” I asserted, “and I'm wondering how I can become a member and get one of those key chains.”

I had asked if she would like to go dancing, and now I was beyond itching to hit the floor. After the last week here and the week before, I left America; I needed a release. LET’S GO OLLIE!

We walked through the closed doors, which had to be soundproof because the music was at full volume in the nightclub. I grabbed Karen’s hand and found a spot where we danced for the next 30 minutes.

She was a good dancer and had a magic touch as I swung her around, spun her, and lifted her. We made it look easy. Onlookers made it even more exciting as they kept clapping and egging us on, just one more, just one more.

I was dripping alcohol from every pore from the previous five nights of drinking beer, but who cared? Certainly not me. When the songs were done, the ladies asked if they could dance with me, and oh no, I was with Karen 100%- her guest, and there was no way I was going to insult her by dancing with another.

We walked back into the main lounge, and at least we could hear each other speaking. “Karen, that was perfection, thank you,” I whispered. The one thing that I loved hearing was that she said it was the best time she had ever spent on a dance floor. Yabba Dabba Doo!

While we were sitting, the gentleman from the door came by to say hello to Karen and spend some time. As he sat down, Karen said, “Lee, this is Ollie. He’s from California, and he’s come over to live in Australia.” Lee looked and said, “During the winter? You're so tan,” and that started a chat. Without me knowing in advance, Karen said I was looking for work.

Lee asked, “Do you know how to bartend, Ollie?” “Well, that’s what I did in California, Lee.” I blurted out. ( Oh, shit did I say that?) “Well, great! If that's the case, I’m interviewing the day after tomorrow at noon. If you are interested, please come and let’s talk.” “Sure, I can’t wait. I look forward to seeing you soon, Lee.”

Once Lee left, I jumped up, gave Karen a Massive hug lasting a few minutes, and gave her a big kiss. I took a chance! I did, I did. It was past 2:30 am, and the club closed at 3 am, so we headed home.

While driving back, I told Karen I had never poured a drink in a bar. The only beverages I had poured were for my Mom and Dad: Scotch and water, wine, or Champagne—the least elaborate stuff. I also had a part-time catering job for private parties, where I acted as a bartender. That’s it; it was my third job, and I did it every week. I am going to figure this out, I thought. I wanted it so bad.

That was the night Karen and I hooked up, or morning, I should say. It was a bed for Ollie, no floor, no springs, no newspapers on the shelves or under the bed, and NO COUCH!

My luck is a-changing quickly.

The next morning, I was up early, making breakfast, and I had a plan in mind. When Karen gets up, I am going to ask her to take me to a bookstore to buy a book on making cocktails and drinks. I will study it thoroughly and prepare for my interview.

She thought that was a great idea, and while driving me there, Karen mentioned, “What if they ask you to prove your background as a bartender?” This was puzzling me. How can I prove that I was a good fit and had what this private club needed? Think, Ollie, think.

Karen wanted to go out for a bite on the morning of the interview, as I had to be at the interview by noon. It was about 11ish, and I was still turning pages in case Lee, the owner, asked me to tell him how certain drinks were made. Karen suggested that we have a drink to take the edge off. I had to hustle as time was running out. Down the hatch and now I’m walking in. All I thought of was that I was in over my head.

Walking inside alone, I saw a shit ton of people sitting in rows of chairs, I would say no less than 50. A solid 50! I thought, Ollie, it's best you leave now; otherwise, you'll embarrass yourself. This is a top-class private club.

I saw a seat up front, perhaps one that no one else wanted, so I grabbed it and kept repeating the cocktail recipes in my mind. They churned over and over.

Since I arrived, four people have come and gone, and then I heard “YANK.” I looked around, thinking it was the copper Mark calling out, but no, Lee, the club owner, waved me in. I was shaking with fear. We shook hands, and I sat before him at a desk made up for the interviews. “So, tell me about yourself, Ollie?”

First, I shared my love for tennis and my dream of becoming a professional with him. Shared my history of playing and the schools where I played on the teams. He went on and on about his love for tennis, too. BINGO, a bond was forming- I could feel it. Then he asked me where I had worked as a bartender. I was thinking fuck it, give him the most prominent names he may have heard of in California, Ollie.

“Beverly Hills Hotel, Lee! They have an exclusive place called the Polo Lounge—also, Jimmy’s in Beverly Hills.” “Yes, yes . I’m aware of the hotel,” he says. Now I think he will call first and let me hear him say they don’t know about you, Yank! Never heard of you working there.

"The Beverly Hills Hotel"

The exact words he followed up with were. “Yank, you're hired. We'll supply you with a metal band for around your arm. We'll also provide you with a few new shirts. You must wear black pants and black polished shoes, and you'll need to wear a bow tie.”

Instead of my saying thank you, next, I said, “But Lee, you have about the 50 other people out there waiting to be interviewed.” “Ollie, don’t worry about them. We will start you tomorrow. You will be paid cash every week at a specific rate. Don’t count on tips, though, it’s not like America.”

“Tomorrow,” I say. “Yes, Ollie, I'm putting you in the main executive bar, front and center, on Friday night. See you at 4 p.m. Don’t forget your Bow tie.” “What about the disco? You have two bars in there.” I asked as I was thinking of keeping a low profile. “Front Ollie!” was his reply.

I ran outside to share this with Karen; we did it! Let’s go shopping right away. I need a bow tie. The only shops she knew were eccentric ones, and they only had Leather Bow ties, so I said, let’s go with RED. ”

I could tell she was gobsmacked at how I got this position, as only people with years of talent, or movie star wannabes, were selected to work there. I was neither.

The next night’s events would go down in history!.

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...ifOnlyi…short stories follow my true-life journey. If you've just found me, you can check out my publication and choose a story of interest or start from # 1.