When Travis, Ian, and Nick walk into the 40 Watt, the place is dead. It resembles, at that point, a warehouse; concrete floor and a ceiling sixteen feet overhead, filled with steel rafters. To the right from the entrance there is a full bar stretching the length of the wall, while beyond them to the front lay the stage, three feet up off the ground. The other side of the club, to the left, is barely visible in the low light. In the very back corner, opposite the front entrance is a dark portal that leads back into a game room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place this empty,” Nick comments as the threesome stroll into the middle of the dance floor. There is an ether in the air like directions that don’t read right. A place hallowed for its entertainment and thrills should never look so dull and be so quiet.

“You guys feelin’ all right?” Ian asks.

Nick shrugs. “I think so. Do I not seem like it?”

“No, you seem fine.”

Travis interjects, “It takes twenty or thirty minutes. You’ll know.”

“I’m not gonna’ try to jump off a building or anything, am I?” Nick asks.

“It’s not acid, man. Trust me. It’s much more chill than that. You’ve done shrooms, right?”

“Yeah, once last summer.”

“It’s like shrooms except without the hallucinatory effects. It’s like you have a lot of energy and you’re positive, but there’s a physical manifestation of it—you feel a lot.” Nick just nods.

“You’ll see,” Travis repeats.

“Man,” Ian says, fiddling with his camera bag on the floor, “Some friends of mine and I did shrooms my freshman year. That was amazing.”

“Never done ’em,” Travis says with a shrug.

“Well how do you know to compare them to this?” Nick asks incredulously.

“Just from what people have told me.”

“You would definitely dig shrooms. They’re totally positive. All I wanted to do was work on shit, and I totally had the capacity to do it. It was like being perfectly clear-headed with just one thing to focus on.”

“I just like being relaxed every now and then. E is just kind of like playing my guitar, except I don’t have to play anything—it’s a cheap way to meditate.”

“I doubt it’s like painting,” Nick offers.

“Why?”

“Well,” Nick thinks about it as the threesome head over to the bar. “I definitely lose myself in what I’m doing, but there’s a lot of energy. I wouldn’t call it relaxing.”

“It’s like the difference between playing something punk or, like, a cosmic folk song. I mean, I probably wouldn’t be too relaxed playing a cover of Layla.” Travis sits the tripod he is carrying for Ian on the bar, and they all sit down, each looking around for a bartender.

“Relaxing is not the right word. You’re just at ease.” The three sit and glance around at the empty surroundings, each remembering the pulse of the crowd they’d seen here before.

“Alcohol’s a depressant, right?”

“It always makes me feel good,” Nick replies.

“Yeah, I know. But, it’s like, pharmaceutically categorized as a depressant, right?”

“I think so,” Ian says slowly, trying to recall the information from some obscure a health class in his past.

“Dontcha’ think it’s weird that the most popular drug in the US is a depressant?”

“Stress,” Ian replies.

“What’s that?” Travis asks, not quite hearing him.

“It calms the nerves—like valium. Everyone in this country is so damn stressed.”

“No, I don’t think it has anything to do with that,” Nick adds. “I don’t think most people could tell you what alcohol does for them. It’s just that it’s the only legal drug.”

“Yeah,” Travis agrees.

“Things are really different over in Europe. A week of stress management classes doesn’t even compare to a good glass of wine,” Ian says.

“I guess I don’t understand why everyone is always so stressed. I’m not stressed.”

“You’re an idiot,” Nick says, pointing.

“Ignorance is bliss,” Travis retorts.

“No, you’re right,” Nick says thoughtfully. “Everyone should just learn to be like us.”

“Well,” Travis replies, unsure, “I wasn’t exactly recommending that.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that to anyone,” Ian says matter-of-factly.

“Actually,” Travis says, “hanging out with you guys is really pretty irritating.”

“If you weren’t so damn annoying…” Nick says, rolling his eyes.

“Is there actually a bartender in this place?” Ian asks annoyed, looking around.

“I think we can just serve ourselves,” Travis replies.

“Get outta’ the way,” Nick chuckles, starting to climb over the bar.

“I need another beer,” Ian says.

“What?” Nick asks, “the seven you had before we got here wasn’t enough?”

“Dude,” Ian says, “I drank, like, two.”

“Two packs?” Travis asks.

“Two dozen packs,” Nick agrees.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Ian says, frustrated. “You guys must be on drugs or somethin’.”

“Hmm…” Nick thinks. “That’s funny. Because now that you mention it…”

“This is ridiculous.” Ian gets up and walks around behind the bar. Travis and Nick exchange unsure glances before Nick says to Ian, “What are you doing?”

“We’ll pay for it when they get here.”

“Uh, I don’t think they’re open yet, man,” Travis adds.

Ian pulls three beers from out of the glass front fridge, opens two and hands them to Travis and Nick. Opening and taking a pull off his own, Ian looks at the other two from behind the bar and says, “They should lock the doors then,” with a shrug.

They sip with guilty delight.

Nick checks over his shoulder for a moment, and then, “Oh well.” Ian glances around the back of the bar and leans casually on it. “You know, I’ve always loved tending bar.”

“Is it cool back there?” Travis asks.

“Yeah.” Ian looks around again. “I gotta’ say, I always feel sorta’ powerful.”

“The almighty bartender,” Nick says.

Ian comes from around the bar and takes his seat between Nick and Travis again. The three sit drinking their beer for a moment before a figure walks out of the dark from beyond the far end of the bar. As she approaches Travis sees it is Rachel and calls out, “Hey there, dollface.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” she replies.

“Love ya’ too, babe,” Travis says making a gun with his hand.

All of the boys turn around on their stools.

“Howya’ doin’, Rachel?” Nick asks.

She sighs. “I’m fine.”

“Is everybody in the back?” Ian asks.

“No. Alex has turned up missing, and they’re calling everywhere trying to find him. He went to go get a pack of smokes and hasn’t come back.” She turns her head to the side and smiles. “How are you?” she says acting energetic. It is evident she isn’t feeling well.

“Getting drunk. You?” Ian replies.

Rachel puts her hand near her bladder. “I’ve had too much already. Those boys…”

“The bathroom’s over there,” Travis offers, pointing to the other side of the room.

“I know. I was just kidding. This is my fifth trip since six.”

“We haven’t seen you in a while. You should come over,” Nick says.

“Yeah. I guess John’s been real busy with the band lately.” There was annoyance in the statement. Travis wonders to himself if that was the trouble that John and Rachel were having. “Okay,” Rachel says, putting up her hands. “I really have to go to the bathroom,” and she walks away in that direction.

The boys turn around on their stools again, where a bartender has materialized before them. She had been waiting for the last couple of minutes for their attention. Nick, not usually a jumpy person, just about falls off his stool. Travis smiles quietly to himself knowing the reason. He is also overly surprised by the bartender’s sudden appearance, but he’s used to the effect of the E.

The young woman looks from beer to beer in the boys’ hands apathetically, but noticing nonetheless.

“We brought them in with us,” Ian answers quickly.

“That’s not allowed,” the bartender replies stoically.

“We’re with the band.”

The bartender, unimpressed, looks to Nick who is still stunned, but had shoved his beer into his jacket. He looks up suddenly and says, “Uh… Jack and Coke… please.” Once the bartender steps away, Travis leans over the bar and towards Nick. “Feelin’ a little somethin’?”

“That was weird,” Nick says slowly, still looking around at the bar and his lap.

Travis smiles like a crazed Ren Hoëk. “Heh… heh… heh, heh.”

Nick shakes his head and put his hands flat on the bar. Ian looks on with intense curiosity, smiling. “What?” he asks Nick.

“I don’t know,” Nick says, shaking his head and staring at the bar. “It was like she was… more there than anything else.” He shakes his head quickly again, as though to physically shake the effects off.

Travis leans over behind Ian and taps Nick on the shoulder while he isn’t looking. Nick jumps again and stands up. “Don’t do that!”

The bartender comes back with Nick’s drink and takes the his money. Travis taps Nick on the shoulder again while the bartender is getting change. Nick jumps again and leans into the bar, whispering past Ian, “Knock it off.” The bartender gives them their change and then wanders off back to where she came from.

“Friendly girl,” Ian says sarcastically, making a discriminating frown and drinking from his beer.

Travis gets up off his stool and starts walking toward Nick, his arms outstretched as though he were going to tap Nick again. Standing up, Nick starts backing off. “Really,” he says, incapable of not smiling, while holding his hands out, “Stop it.”

Travis straightens up. “You’re no fun,” and he walks back to his stool.

“No fun?” Nick asks incredulously. “You’re freakin’ me out.”

Ian looks Nick up and down, trying to detect what’s different about his friend. “What is it, dude?”

“Every time he taps me, it’s like somebody’s throwing a baseball at me.”

“What? Does it hurt?” “No, no. It’s just big is all.” Nick seems genuinely shaken as he sits down on his stool again but he can’t stop smiling. “And sudden.” Travis is staring at some trivial something at the end of the bar, so Nick leans over past Ian and taps Travis on the shoulder. Travis falls to the floor undramatically, and Ian and Nick start laughing.

“Ha ha,” Travis says from the floor. “Real funny.” He doesn’t get up.

“Get off the floor, man,” Ian says. “Somebody’s gonna’ see you.”

“So?” Travis asks lethargically.

Ian looks back to Nick who is now staring at the beer bottles in the cooler with great intensity. He laughs to himself and looks over his shoulder to see Rachel approaching them.

“What are you doing?” she asks. Obviously she has seen some of the antics from across the room.

Ian just shrugs and stands up to go meet her. He steps over Travis who is lying contentedly on his back. “We’re just having some fun.”

Travis watches the space above him, thoroughly amused by Rachel and Ian’s heads appearing high above his own. They are looking at him and seem entirely unreal—like recordings of their former selves, a television point of view through his own eyes. The perspective is too much, and he picks himself up off the ground. As he stands up, Rachel asks him out of curiousity, “Are you feeling all right?”

Travis stands up completely and straightens himself out. He hears the honest concern for his welfare. It bothers him for a moment before he looks into her eyes with a shit-eating grin and says, “You may now call me Tecron the Wise.”

Ian just laughs and pats Travis on the shoulder, “Okay, man.”

“No. I’m just kidding,” Travis answers, knowing he was just partly being silly. “I’m cool.”

Rachel chuckles to herself and says, “Somebody wrote on the wall in the bathroom, ‘Question everything,’ and somebody wrote beneath that, ‘Why?’.” She and Ian and Travis laugh. Nick is still mesmerized by the beer bottles.

Travis reaches over and just touches him on the shoulder, so as not to shock him again. Nick turns around, his eyes wide. “Let’s go find John,” he suggests and to Nick, the name John has all the effect of the words ‘Dali Lama.’ Nick nods reverently.

“Man, this shit’s cool!” Nick replies. He is smiling wider than the Cheshire Cat. Ian pats him on the shoulder. “You sure you feel all right? You were staring over there for a minute or two.”

“Was I really? Actually? That felt like an hour.”

“Yeah?” Ian asks.

“I feel fine,” Nick reassures.

They all set off for the Green Room, drinks and equipment in hand. Nick steps up with Travis and repeats, “Man, this shit’s cool.”

“Just wait,” Travis says.

“What?” asks Nick.

“Just wait. You’ll settle into it.”

“I feel fine now though.” Nick clumsily executes a couple of martial arts moves to prove his point.

“This is just the first roll.”

“It’s like you said: zen.”

“Yeah. This isn’t quite like the last time I did it,” Travis says, trying to cite the difference, but it’s beyond him.

Nick takes in a big breath and says, “Yeah. Totally cool.” He let the air out of his lungs and laughs for no reason. His eyes open wide suddenly and he says, “Holy shit! I need a smoke!”

“Forgot that you did, didn’t you?” Travis asks knowingly.

“Yeah. I forgot I ever did.”

Travis looks at Nick and laughs, to which Nick laughs in return. Nick stands in place for a moment and then moves around like a robot, making industrial squeals and whirs out of the side of his mouth. Travis looks on, enjoying his friend’s new experience. Nick stops and looks around. They are standing inside a darkened hallway between the dance floor and backstage. It seems as though Rachel and Ian have vanished—or were never there to begin with. Putting his hand over his mouth, Nick lets out an exagerated high-pitched giggle, “Hee hee hehehehe.”

“Hee hee hehehehe,” Travis imitates.

Taking two steps back into the shadows of the hallway, Nick says in a goofy, Swedish accent,

“I yam hiding from yoo.”

Travis takes three large, pronounced steps around in a circle while declaring, “I yam zeeking yoo.” Travis reaches into his coat and produces a pack of cigarettes. “Here you go.”

Nick smiles and laughs. “Man, you’re the best.”

“Hey,” Travis says slowly, “We’re like that.”

Nick laughs, takes a cigarette and puts his arm around Travis. “We’ve been friends for a long time, man.”

“We have,” Travis says, lighting Nick’s cigarette.

Nick stands next to Travis, his arm around his friend’s shoulder and pulls off his cigarette.

“Boy, that’s nice.”

“It’s dry. Very tasty.”

Nick begins to contemplate his cigarette heavily before Travis interjects, “Hey!” He turns slowly and brings Nick around to face an exit sign at the end of the hallway. “Look at the sign,” he says mystically.

“It’s the exit,” Nick says reverently. Nick stares intensely for a moment and then relaxes.

“Wow.” Looking down at his hands, Nick examines them in the faint but monotone red light.

“Wow.”

“Just remember three things,” Travis says. “No one can understand what you’re saying, couches do not talk, and light is just light—you can’t eat it.”

“You’re just fuckin’ with me.”

“No wait.” Travis thinks a moment. “Light can’t understand what you’re saying, you can’t understand anyone, and couches aren’t edible.”

“Quit it.”

“I know,” Travis replies. “I’m just kidding—not about the couch thing. It’s not that bad, right? The first time I did it, I was totally coherent. It just takes you a little off your center, you know?”

Turning, they both walk into the Green Room, a small room at the back of the club, behind the stage. Into it are packed four couches, a coffee table and twelve bodies: The four guys from Homespun Noose, five of the members of The Water Department, the lead singer Eric’s girlfriend Lauren, Rachel and Ian. Stumbling through the door, Nick and Travis make their way back to the hall to the stagedoor, where John, dressed in a full three-piece suit, is currently leaning against a wall with a pint of Cuervo in his hand. Everyone in the room regards Travis and Nick peculiarly as the two make their way to the back of the room without a word or looking at anyone. Ian just makes the universal sign for drugged up, popping pretend pills in his mouth, as Nick and Travis pass, and everyone in the room relaxes again. Half of them are only paranoid because they’re stoned anyway. Now they’re giggling to one another secretly.

Travis walks up to John, presents himself in military fashion and announces, “Hello, Admiral.”

Looking at Travis suspiciously, and at Nick, who is normally several inches taller than Travis, but is at this moment crouched down and hovering right behind Travis, hiding. John replies, slowly, “Hello there.” He knows when they’re up to something.

“We have come to bestow good luck upon you,” Travis says.

“Thank you,” John says simply, still watchful.

Letting the ‘L’ roll off his tongue slowly, Nick peeks up from behind Travis and half-repeats the sentiment, “Lllluck.” He hides behind Travis again.

“Yes,” John says, mildly amused with the pair.

“Are you ready?” Travis asks, trying to regain some element of normalcy—an element he is not entirely sure he has lost in the first place. He still sounds like he is talking about a space flight the way he asks the question.

“Ah,” John says, relaxing, shrugging, “Ready as I’m gonna’ be.”

“And you’re always gonna’ be,” Nick said, peering up from behind Travis and nodding.

John laughs. “Is that right?”

“Nick here is the cap’n,” Travis says, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.

Nick peers up again like a periscope and looks surprised to hear this—that or surprised to see Travis’s thumb. John can’t tell which. Leaning in, John just says mysteriously, “Are you the sultan, Trav?”

Travis thinks about this for a moment and then merrily agrees.

“I have bad news for ya’, Trav,” John says, shaking his head. “Bad news.”

“Oh no,” Travis says, “You can’t do that to me. I’m the sultan.”

“Oh yes I can, Trav,” John says with an evil grin.

Nick, in the meantime, is pushing past both John and Travis to get to the stage door.

“No, John. See, when I’m on Mount Olympus—see—then you can sell me out. But I’m in Elysian Fields right now—so you can’t.”

John thinks about this seriously for a moment. “E?”

Travis gives him the old thumb’s up.

“What the hell’s he talkin’ about?” Nick hollers from down the hall.

Travis looks past John to where Nick is. He has seated himself on the floor in the corner of the hall by the door. Slowly, Travis makes his way over to where Nick is. “Okay,” he says, taking a big exasperated breath. “There are people everywhere, right?”

“Right,” Nick agrees. Then, he double-checks the fact in his head. “Okay.”

“And everybody has a negative person—like matter and antimatter. There are anti-people.”

“Sure,” Nick says slowly.

“And see,” Travis continues, “John sold me out to the negative people once, when we were stoned. They can come and get me now.”

“You’re nuts,” Nick responds from the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees.

“Yeah, yeah,” Travis says, irritated. “I know that. But it’s hardly the point.”

“No, I think that’s the point,” Nick argues.

“The point is, that when we’re stoned, John tries to make me paranoid—which is a very easy thing to do. But I’m not stoned right now.”

“What the hell does that have to do with Mount Olympus and Elysian Fields?”

“Code words,” says John from behind Travis.

Travis jumps a little at hearing the voice so suddenly from behind him, and gives John an irritated look for sneaking up on him. John just beams back stupidly. Nick looks to John and then back to Travis. “Code words for what?”

“States of mind,” Travis answers secretively.

“I don’t get it.”

“Think about it for a second.”

“Shut up and tell me. I don’ wanna’ think about it.”

“You want me to shut up?—or tell you?”

“Speak!”

“States of mind,” Travis repeats, “like, M in Mount Olympus for Marijuana?”

“Oh. I get it,” Nick agrees. “Elysian Fields: Ecstasy.”

“Yeah. And they’re all mystical places,” Travis says.

“He got so paranoid about the whole deal, he wouldn’t talk about anything until we had code words for it all,” John says.

“Did you come up with one for all of them?” Nick asks.

“I think so,” Travis answers and looks to John for a prompt.

“Atlantis… Elysian Fields… Mount Olympus… Hades—” John starts.

“No, no!” Travis interrupts frantically. “You’re giving the code away.”

John looks at him funny and Nick says, “I can know the code.”

“How do we know he’s not one of them?” Travis asks so Nick can hear him.

Nick flutters air through his lips like a horse. “I’m not a negative person.”

“I guess Nick is a positive being,” Travis said thoughtfully.

Nick laughs and tries to stand up. He fails, and then says from the ground, “That’s so cheesy.
I’m a positive person.” He thinks about that for a second and then relaxes again. “Yeah, man, I am a positive person.”

“You rock, dude,” Travis agrees.

“Dude, you’re awesome, too.”

“You see,” Travis says, as though he’d somehow proven a point, “on Mount Olympus you can detect equal levels of people and anti-people, but in Elysian Fields, you can’t detect the negative people at all, but you can feel your positivity in opposition to their presence.”

Nick and John think about this (John just pretending, Nick actually doing it).

“What about Atlantis?” Nick asks. “What about that?”

“The negative people rape you there,” John says.

They all laugh as Ian approaches the group. He makes his way down the hall in an investigative manner, past John and Travis, and approaches Nick. “You all right there, buddy?” he asks, bending over slightly putting his hands on his knees.

“Never better,” Nick replies from the floor, putting his thumb up.

Ian stands up and points Nick out to John and Travis who just look on bemusedly. “C’mon,” Ian said, lightly kicking Nick, “Let’s go out on the dance floor. I wanta’ take some pictures.”

“No, no,” says Nick waving, Ian off, “I’m feeling undefined.”

“Are you all right?”

“Cripes,” Travis says, throwing up his arms, “why don’t ya’ nanny the guy.”

“Hey man,” Ian says, standing up straight and meandering down to where Travis is, “I’m jus’ checkin’ it out—just checkin’ on things, Vaquero.”

Travis puts on his “angry” face and stares at Ian. He can smell the ganja now. “Well, why don’t you wonder somewhere else ya’ God damned wop.”

Ian responds by putting his “angry” face on and leans in. “Don’t tell me what ta’ do ya’ fuckin’ mick.”

Neither of them can hold the pose and they start laughing. Ian puts his arm around Travis’s shoulder and says, “Vaquero!”

“Pirata!” Travis says and pats Ian on the back.

Travis and Ian laugh for a minute before John looks them both up and down and says (like a nine-year-old who can’t get his friends in on a dare), “You guys are gay.”

Nick laughs hard from the floor at the end of the hall.

“Shut up,” Travis says, “you’re just jealous that you can’t show your feminine side.”

John tugs his pants up around his waist and replies in a redneck accent, “C’mere. I’ll show ya’ how ta’ hug a man.”

“No way,” Travis says, frightened. He starts backing down the hall to where Nick is still lying on the floor.

John smiles evilly and chants, “Daddy giveth and daddy taketh away.”

Travis and Nick cower at the end of the hall, while Ian just looks on dumbfounded—another apartment joke, apparently. John turns suddenly to Ian and said, “C’mon, let’s go take those pictures.” Ian and John walk off leaving Travis and Nick in the hall.

“I hate it when he does that,” Nick says.

“Hey!” Travis hollers and hits Nick on the shoulder.

“Ow! What?”

“Let’s go sit in a couple of those big ol’ lounge chairs out off the dance floor—just sit for a while.”

“That sounds good,” Nick agrees dreamily.

The pair make their way out of the green room, past a couple of laughing members of Homespun Noose and Eric and Lauren discussing something serious. The rest of the band is out in the hall waiting on Eric, and the front man, Lee is closest to the door when Nick and Travis come out. Lee turns to greet Travis, “Travis, right?”

“Yeah. Hey, Lee, how’re you?”

“Pretty good, man, pretty good. You?”

“I’m just fine. You know Nick?”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Lee, reaching out and shaking Nick’s hand. “I think we talked for a second after our second or third show.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Nick agreed.

“Oh, and John says you have some paintings I need to see.”

“Yeah… well…” says Nick modestly.

“He seems to really like your work,” Lee adds. They all walk out onto the dance floor. There are fifteen or so people milling about now. “Actually,” Lee continues. “We’re gonna’ be hitting the studios in a few months. I guess we might need some artwork for an album. John seems to think you’re the man.”

“That would be cool.” Nick turns around suddenly, looks around behind him for a few moments and then looks back as though nothing had happened. “Yeah,” he says again, and then checks over his shoulder one more time. Travis laughs.

“You all right there?” Lee asks, trying to look behind Nick.

“Oh yeah,” Nick answers vehemently.

“We’re rollin’,” Travis says, and Nick hits him in the shoulder. “What?” he asks Nick.

“No,” Lee says to Nick, “don’t worry, dude. I’m cool with that. You guys are gonna’ enjoy the show.”

Nick and Travis nod, Travis with a wink.

“All right,” Lee says, “if you guys’ll excuse me—I think we’re doin’ a foe-toe-shoot here.” Lee makes a face to show he doesn’t want them to think he’s being pretentious. Everyone kidded about being famous. They didn’t want it, but in a way they did—or knew it to be a consequence of what they really wanted, vindication that they weren’t slackers, but artists. Making their way over to a couple of comfortable armchairs, Nick and Travis seat themselves. Nick reaches out for one of the arms before actually sitting down and stops in his tracks, some sort of revelation holding him in place. He starts rubbing the arm of the chair briskly.

“Feel this,” he says to Travis.

Already seated, Travis leans over and feels the arm of the chair. “Oh yeah,” he agrees. Kneeling down on one knee, Nick begins running his hand up and down on the armchair. “Oh my God,” he says, rubbing more vigorously. “This is amazing.”

“Yep,” Travis agrees.

Nick starts to lean down like he’s going to bite it.

“Okay, but I told you about that. Sit in it, dude.”

Nick pulls himself up into the chair and sinks back, completely relaxed. He sits still for a few moments, looking around at nothing in particular. “I am not moving from this chair,” he declares.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

“I like this way too much.” Looking uncomfortable for a moment, he feels around inside his jacket and pulls out a beer. “Oh yeeeeeah.”

Read the whole thread: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: 40 Watt, Athens, ecstasy, Ian Fleming, John Riffing, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting