Scotch & Soda

He had just had a wonderful breakfast with some friends at Buvette on Grove St, just off Bleecker Street. Buvette was a relatively small place with many tiny tables and stools that made it seem much smaller than it actually was. The decor was French in that there were many French posters lining the walls, and the music was 1920’s gypsy music that he associated with France. The tables were minuscule as were the stools, and there was a charm in rubbing shoulders with people you didn’t know while eating your fluffy eggs. The place was loud and he and his friends were in a lively mood contributing more than their fair share to the noisy ambiance.

They had finished eating a while ago but were just sitting over their lukewarm Americano’s when suddenly they heard very loud sirens. None of them had ever been in a war but those were the sirens they heard in movies warning everyone to find cover from the oncoming air strikes. As no one had ever been in a war, everyone rushed outside to see what was going on. Many were taking pictures and Instagraming.

There were hordes of people filling the streets and walking in the same direction towards Bleecker street. Some were looking back and trying to go back or to the sides, but the masses just pushed them forward. Most of them had big smiles on their faces, singing songs and clapping their hands in rhythm. His friends were very excited to see such a crowd and immediately tapped into the energy of the crowd.

“Come ‘on,” his friend said enthusiastically, “let’s join them! It’s a big party!” The other two started to clap and were definitely on board. He had serious doubts and made it obvious that he had no intention of joining them, but his friends dragged him out into the mad revelry of the crowd. As soon as they stepped out onto the sidewalk they were swept away by the masses pushing forward in unison. Audible just above the wailing of the sirens, loud voices projecting from amplified bullhorns that weren’t visible told them to continue walking forward and to follow the signs on the corner.

It didn’t feel right to him. Why was everyone walking so blindly in the same direction. Did the men on the bullhorns have weapons? Was there fear of being harmed? Why did everyone seem so happy? He didn’t want to follow the crowd but like everyone else he was swept by the wave of people filling every inch of the street and sidewalk. There were so many people that the parked cars were not visible.

As he approached Bleecker street he noticed that another wave of people were arriving from Bleecker and merging with wave coming from Grove Street. He noted the sign on the near corner stating “One Way” that everyone seemed to be following. He caught sight of one of the men giving instructions from the bullhorn. He was wearing a dark uniform with some type of armband on his left arm that he couldn’t make out. The man was saying that everyone should follow the “One Way” sign and was pointing in the direction of Bleecker street. The man reassured everyone that this was the path to salvation and happiness. The man reminded everyone of the ills of modern society that was making them sad, lonely, and taking away their life force. The man encouraged them to follow the path to a better and more fulfilling life and repeated the chant that everyone was already singing. The crowds became even more enthusiastic.

Something did not sit well with him. He felt claustrophobic and was sweating profusely. He wanted to get out of there. Everyone around him was smiling and happily speaking with one another. Some were giving high fives to others as they passed by. His friends saw that he was not as enthusiastic as they were so they grabbed him by both of his arms and jumped up and down to get him in the mood. He tried to resist but between the push of the crowd and his friends dragging him forward, he had no choice but to continue moving with the herd.

What did they know that he didn’t, he asked himself. As he got closer to the corner, he noticed the sign across the street that was perfectly aligned with the “One Way” sign on the near corner, but because of his perspective, it was much smaller. The sign said “Bleecker” street and he immediately grokked that this path, in contradistinction to what the men on the bullhorns were saying, led to a “bleaker” existence. It was so obvious to him. Why didn’t anyone else get it?

His friends were still next to him and he shouted out to them:

“That’s the wrong way! Don’t go that way!”

No one heard him because of the sirens and amplified voices of the men shouting instructions to follow the “One Way” sign. Or perhaps they did and chose to ignore him. He shouted even louder and pulled on their shoulders, but they looked at him with the blind look of a sleepwalker, smiled, hugged him, and continued their shuffle towards “One Way” and a “bleaker” life. He became more distressed with every step forward that he was pushed forward by the oncoming herd. There was no turning back. He looked up at the far side of the street and there was another sign that said “Stop” forbidding those in doubt to deviate from the prescribed path.

As the throng of people turned the corner, he found that although he couldn’t walk backward, he was able to move sideways towards the stop sign. He wiggled out of his friends’ arms and allowed himself to inch behind them. He felt like a sailboat tacking to arrive at his desired designation. The current of people were moving to the right so he had to angle himself to the far left in order to direct himself diagonally to arrive at the northeast corner. The masses were singing songs and clapping in unison louder and louder. The voices on the bullhorns faded as did the sirens. They were no longer necessary.

He finally arrived on the northeast corner of Bleecker and was suddenly free of the gravitational pull of the herd. He was concerned about his friends but knew it was too late to save them. He started to make his way up Grove Street, where the sign clearly indicated “Stop!” He took his first few steps in that direction when a friendly voice came from a drop-dead gorgeous woman standing in front of the store “Scotch and Soda.” He knew the store as a clothing store, but now it was a bar.

“Come on in, handsome.” She beckoned him to come into the bar. “Drinks are on the house today. Join me.”

“No thanks,” he replied and continued to walk away from the herd.

She took some steps towards him and pulled on his arm. “Don’t be a party pooper, friend. I’m really lonely and could use your company.” He smiled at her and continued to walk away. She held his arm tighter, drew him very close so that her breasts were pressing against his chest. She licked his earlobe and whispered: “I’m really feeling lonely right now and promise to make it worth your while. Please don’t leave me.”

He noticed that there were a few other stragglers who opted out of following the masses and were also about to ignore the “Stop” sign but they were lured into “Scotch and Soda” by other beautiful men and women for drinks and the promise of sex.

She was now kissing his neck and pressing her body and grinding against him. He was so tempted. He seriously considered going in for a drink, having an adventure with her, and then leaving on his adventure down Grove Street. He witnessed other men and women walking into Scotch and Soda with their escorts and briefly felt assured that they were like-minded people with whom he would continue his journey. She gave him a deep wet kiss, snuggled under his arm and started to walk him towards to the door. Just as he was about to enter, he broke free and started to run down Grove Street. He was all alone.

He understood immediately. It was all a trap to brainwash them, to keep them on track. The drinks and beautiful men and women were intended to diminish their resolve to leave the herd. It appeared that most fell for it and entered “Scotch and Soda” with the figurative “Sirens” that were substituted for the literal ones.

He noticed something else. It seemed that someone had left signs in plain sight for those who had the eyes to notice them. He looked up and all around there were fire escapes to remind them that they could escape whenever they wanted. They weren’t alone. He looked down Bleecker Street and there was a store named “See.” This was obviously a reminder. Once aware, it was so obvious, but invisible to the vast majority. It seemed so hopeless for the masses, for his friends. But then he saw a metal structure of a smiling face and just behind it, another sign stating “New York on Air.” For some reason, this lifted his despair. He realized that it was all part of the Divine Comedy and everything was “on air,” part of the dream. He turned away from the herd and set out on his path to the unknown.

I am an emergency physician, writer and a lover of life. The purpose of this blog is to share my ideas, experiences and perspectives as they relate to Consciousness, and as they evolve. Consciousness encompasses everything in my life, your life, the world, the Universe — in other words — EVERYTHING! As the great Shaman Don Diego used to say: “It’s not the most important thing, and it’s not the least important thing…It’s the ONLY thing!”

Check out my novel: “The Twin Flames, the Master, and the Game”! It’s available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Balboa Press.