Musings of a Madman

© Sean N. Zelda              There’s a first time for everything… on the road. Like that time you were driving and you saw your first MEAT IS MURDER bumper sticker and you thought to yourself I can’t wait to eat steak tonight. Then there’s the time you got stopped at a railroad crossing and it was the longest train you’ve ever seen. You waited there, trailing four vehicles and the line-up behind you was even longer than the train. Yes, you’ve had many adventures on the road. There was the time you forgot to check your blind spot on the freeway and nearly side-swiped a monstrous SUV with your tiny four-door sedan. And the time you needed to make a right turn, but traffic was backed up in the right lane. Someone let you out, but the left lane was clear and someone was heading straight for your hood as you inched your way out. They had to clear you by swerving into the left turn lane.             The highlights of your driving adventures are always the bad ones. Like the time you got

© Sean N. Zelda The clock reads 9 o'clock on a gloomy day in May. It had been raining from morning until early afternoon, washing the oil, dirt and gasoline from the streets which at the moment remain wet. Nightfall has just recently cascaded over the landscape, and Nick and his two high school friends and ex-band mates are on their way to a jazz bar in downtown Detroit. Tiny light bulbs line the ceiling of the circular entry way, illuminating the night sky. The shining words CLIFF BELL’S stretch across the protruding half-circle. Nick opens the door and saxophone squeals escape. Straight ahead, Nick sees and hears that the sax man is accompanied by an upright bassist, a pianist and a drummer. An extended, oval-shaped bar is perched in the middle of the establishment. The group strolls counter-clockwise around it and each man finds a cushy seat at the bar, spots which offer an ideal view of the band. They wait. It’s a busy Tuesday night at Cliff Bell’s so they have to give the