Thursday, August 8, 2013
Smokin' Jim's
I like to eat. I also like a good adventure. I love combining the two where I take a adventure to find a good place to eat. A place that's off the beaten path. A place known and loved by the locals that live around it. I get that from my father. When my sister Kimberly and I were young we did a lot of traveling with dad and mom to visit those out of the way places. Dad's advice was always check out the parking lot. If there are cars there then it's a good place. If the lot is empty then keep on driving. I've discovered that there's a lot of truth to that. I've been driving through unfamiliar areas and have come across some interesting looking places and even though the lot was near empty I still stopped. 9 times out of 10 I soon knew why the lot was empty. Anyway, I'm blessed that a friend of mine is the same way I am. She loves the same adventure of loading up in the car and heading out in search of the next great discovery. Our most recent find was a place that really knocked the ball out of the ballpark! We've been four times now and we love it. The first time we ate there I felt the same way one of those food critics must feel like when they find that hidden gem. I used to love to read Scott Josephs restaurant reviews that he used to write for the Orlando Sentinel. Each week he would secretly travel to some restaurant to dine as a regular guest and then write his review of his experience. I always thought that would be the ultimate job!! Getting paid to eat! Sadly, he hung up his fork and knife a few years ago and retired. Recently me and my friend set out on one of our adventures in search of a place I had remembered reading a article about a few years back. It was so dang delicious it brought out the writer in me to want to write about just how good it was! Soooo, here's my attempt to write a food review and do it as well as any of the "Real" critics would be able to do it. Enjoy it.
The place is called Smokin' Jim's House of Barbecue. And what a house it is. My friend typed the address into her cell phone navigator before we left ( I prefer the old mapquest it and hope for the best method myself but that's another story). Soon Mrs. direction lady was commanding us to turn here and prepare to make a right a half a mile up ahead. It's hard for me to trust whoever is sitting beside me telling me where to go, let alone a cell phone. But she seemed to know where she was taking us and soon we were traveling on roads we had never driven on before. Smokin' Jim's in located in the town of Auburndale which borders the bigger city of Winter Haven. I had remembered seeing a add for the place a few years ago and thinking that it sounded like a good place to eat and had kind on stored it away in the back of my mind. One particular Friday evening while trying to decide on a new place to try Jim's add popped up from the dark recess's of my memory. So we looked it up online. I printed out the mapquest directions, friend put the address in her phone navigator ( see four or five sentences up ). Anyway, after a beautiful back country drive through citrus fields and farms and a few small towns in between, we finally arrived at Jim's. Pulling in the drive was the first thing you notice on the left is the huge smoker that covered with a equally large building and roof.
There was a wood pile to the side that was big enough to keep a home up north warm for the entire winter. Across the driveway on the right was the restaurant. We drove in a ways and parked and knew we were going to be in for a treat. As we exited our vehicle the sweet, smokey smell of burning seasoned oak teased our senses. Immediately our stomachs sat up and took notice. We picked up our pace a little and hurried in. Though not a big place, Jim's pulled no punches. Inside the modest building were comfy picnic tables and regular tables lined up in neat rows. On the tables the staff at Jim's were already prepared by having rolls of paper towels on the tables on stand by. Joining the towels were containers of plastic forks and knifes.
The table was all ready, all that was left was order and bring on the food. And let me tell you this. Smokin' Jim isn't to be confused with Jokin' Jim. This man knows his barbecue! If it's your first time visiting tell your waitress and they will bring you out a sample plate of all their different meats. But trying them all will only add to the agonizing choice of what to order. All of Jim's meat is smoked, if you want sauce then you have to use some that's on the table. Each item we sampled was simply delicious. There's a menu to look at and a big overhead board with that days specials and desserts listed. We really had to strain to read it. It, like the help who was working in there, seemed to have a southern accent as well. A added bonus is when my waitress refers to me as "hon". Just gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Finally, after a lot of reading and rereading I decided on my usual. Chicken. All you can eat. A steal at 7.95 for dark only, 8.95 for both white and dark. Now I come from a big family of chicken lovers and I can put some away. I secretly thought to myself ain't know way their gonna make any money on me tonight. That also included all you could eat side items as well and choosing them was as tough as the dinner choice. Luckily, you can order a different one each time you ask for more so you can try several different one's. My friend chose the chicken as well but only the standard light meal which was a half of chicken. Cole slaw and mac and cheese was her choice of sides. I decided to start of with collard greens and the mac and cheese. She chose garlic toast, I opted for cornbread. It didn't take long for our food to arrive and it was love at first sight! The chicken was black but not from being burnt but from the sweet oak smoke. After a quick Thank you Jesus for the food we were about to receive we dug in. I was hooked from the first bite. Jim has mastered the art of smoking chicken. The bird was darkened and seasoned to perfection and the meat was as moist as it could be.
That is a tough combination to get right and Jim's does. My four pieces went quick and I placed my next order. The collard greens taste like they had just been cut from the back of the restaurant and cooked when I ordered. Very flavorful and not cooked to death. The mac and cheese was very good as well. Our waitress accidentally brought friend a order of black eyed peas out with her food and they were passed to me to eat. The best I have ever eaten! Just when I was thinking it couldn't get any better I took a bite of my cornbread. It was cornbread good enough to make your momma rethink her family heirloom recipe. I almost started crying it was so good. While we were enjoying our food we had been reading the overhead board and looking at all their dessert choices. Several were listed but we were intrigued by the one called dig licker cake. Now picture this. My pal says to me "what do you think the dig licker cake is?" Imagine what that would sound like if someone with a accent was to ask you and you'll understand why I gasped so hard I almost choked on a big mouthful of collards! That certainly had our attention so we asked our waitress what kind of cake dig licker was. She laughed almost as hard as we hard and informed us it was PIG licker cake, not dig. See, I told ya that darn sign had a heavy accent! Well, after all that we had to try a piece. It lived up to the other wonderful food we had just packed away. It was 3.95 for a slice and the slice looked like it was close to a quarter of the cake. It was made up of several layers and had a cream frosting with pieces of pineapple in it. After that we were done. Literally. Jim's hits on all cylinders and if you like good cooking and great barbecue then this is your place. If your a steak lover (and really, who of us isn't) then stop in on Saturday night. Between 5 and 9 pm Jim will custom grill you a steak that's so good that if you placed it on top of your head your tongue will drill a hole through your skull to get to it. Some other food critic info I should add is Jim's accepts credit cards ( I know cause we used one), I don't know if they serve alcohol because I don't drink. He's closed on Sundays and Mondays and his hours are 11am-9pm Tues through Sat. Try him out and look for us. Good chance we'll be there.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Quiet
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Funeral of a Facebook friend.
I lost my best friend last week. Even though we had never met, or even spoken on the phone for that matter, Steve and I had been best Facebook buddies for the last four years. I remember we met when another friend "suggested" Steve to me as a friend. I sent him a friend request and he accepted. We hit it off immediately. We both liked the same pages. Every morning we raced to see who could poke who first. We were always the first to comment on each others statuses. We enjoyed chatting in the mornings before work while we drank our coffee's. Steve had gone through a rough patch in his life a couple years ago. His wife Julie had suddenly announced to him her rekindled love for her sixth grade crush Tommy Allen. They had recently reconnected on Facebook and started chatting and Tommy confessed he still had feelings for her and he was bored with his life and how it sucked. They secretly messaged each other back and forth and soon came up with a plan to leave their spouses and finally complete what they started when they were eleven. Julie quit her job, packed a suitcase and moved with Tommy to New Mexico, leaving my friend to fend for himself. Two months later he totaled his 1984 Chrysler K car when a drunk driver made a illegal U turn in front of him and forgot to turn. His insurance company actually wanted Steve to PAY THEM for the time it took the agent to go to his house to take a picture of the totaled car. After that he lost the house. His fourteen year old chihuahua paco, legally blind and deaf, escaped outside the front door as the people sent over from the bank were loading all his possessions in the Ryder truck. Paco didn't hear or see the chicken hawk swoop down from the sky and grab him. Before Steve could react the bird shot straight up into the sky and he never saw his little dog again. There wasn't a dry eye on his friend list when he posted his poem he wrote and dedicated to his beloved paco. I still remember some of the lines like "Oh paco, oh paco, why did you have to go". "Even though you couldn't hear me call, or see me down the hall, I always felt bad when you walked into the wall". And "On your last day you left me and soared through the air, even though you had hawk talons stuck in your fur and hair". Even after all the tragedy of that year Steve still inspired me and his other friends with all his shared inspirational posts. Post like "Don't let life get you down. Chose to be up and you will be." Or "Always be in your happy area and don't let mean people pull you out of it". I always shared those posts on my wall and was proud to call Steve my friend. We often private messaged each other and talked about getting together sometime to be able to finally meet but alias, fate had different plans. Last week there was a freak accident down at the Better Buy distribution warehouse where Steve worked. Witnesses reported seeing him texting on his smartphone while he was hauling a pallet of brand new fresh from China Taskinoglu Blu Ray DVD players backwards on his forklift. Somehow he veered of course and drove right out the open loading dock door. The back of the forklift hit the ground first and Steve was thrown onto the ground and the pallet of DVD players crashed down on him. First on the scene responders were shocked to see only his arm coming out from under the deadly pile of electronics. He still had his phone in his hand and the paramedics could only shake their heads when they discovered that he had been updating his facebook status. He had only got half of it typed and out of respect one of the paramedics hit send. Imagine my confusion when my phone vibrated at my job and I slipped it out to read what my best bud had said now. Of course, I didn't understand what had happened at that point. Steve's post merely read, "Bored out of my mind. I'm half tempted to just" and that was it. I commented first, like always. "To just what old buddy?" Soon others chimed in after Steve never answered, making a game out of posting something funny or crude. Todd said "To just confess I like guys LOL." Jake wrote "To go hunt Tommy Allen down in New Mexico and make him eat a shotgun sandwich?" Jenna Hopkins wrote "To call Jenna Hopkins and tell her I'm madly in love with her :) >>>3>>" We were all cracking up as each friend tried to out do the last one. Well we weren't laughing that night. Joe Hardin, one of Steve's coworkers, posted the news on Steve's wall that night. Joe had a uncanny ability to hack into peoples facebook accounts and post stupid comments while posing as them and he had had Steve's account info as well. Needless to say, we were all devastated. My best friend, whom I had never got to meet, was gone! Snuffed out by a pallet of Blu Rays. Soon all of Steve's friends were posting personal stories about the good times they had shared with him. Another friend of his created a page called In Remembrance of Steve. There we all reposted our favorite uploads and shares that Steve had posted over the years. Carl Collins, a old friend from his high school, created a event when the funeral was announced and sent out invites to everyone on Steve's friend list. I wanted to go real bad but with me being on the west coast and Steve living in Massachusetts it just wasn't possible to do so on such short notice. Still, I responded maybe just in case. Carl promised to take lots of pictures and even record the whole service with his iPhone and upload it all to his In Remembrance of Steve page. True to his word, he did. I watched the whole service that night. After the video I checked out Carls photo album he had put together. I met Steve's mom. His sister Karen. I finally saw a picture of his crazy uncle Phil. Uncle Phil didn't have a facebook page so no one really knew him. Some reps from Better Buy were there. Better Buy had picked up the whole tab for the funeral home and the service, probably more out of fear of a lawsuit then compassion for Steve, even though there were No Texting While Operating Forklift signs posted throughout the warehouse. They certainly spared no expense. The funeral home looked nice. A organist played soft music as the mourners filed in. They even payed for a luncheon immediately following the service that was catered by some group named Kathys Kountry Katering. Rest in peace my friend. I'm going to miss ya and I'm sorry we never got to meet.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
The annual Valentines Dinner and Dance Gala
Happy Valentines Day
February 14th. Valentines day, or evening as it actually was, and the annual dinner and dance ball was in full swing. Just like every year, the event hosted some of New York's finest. This was not a cheap event by any means. The per couple price tag to attend was more then most New Yorkers made in six, maybe even seven, months of employment. Most of the attendees had known extravagances like this their whole lives. Born into families that had made their fortunes long ago and tonight's guests had continued in those family businesses. There were wall street investors here. Men (and women) whose grandparents had formed companies that ran the gauntlet from oil and gas to railroads and real estate. Thus making the party a very exclusive event. Those attending had been attending for many years and wouldn't dream of missing it. The setting each year was in the ballroom of the very posh New Yorker hotel on the upper side of Manhattan. Located on the 9th floor of the twenty four story hotel, the ballroom was the perfect venue for this party. The history of the place and the hotel was rich and far reaching. Built back in the 20's, the hotel had played host to several past presidents and celebrities over the years. Franklin D Roosevelt was the first president to visit. He had thrown a huge party here after defeating Hoover in 32. In fact, several of the idea's that made up his New Deal to help pull the county out of the great depression had been born that night in this very room with some of the movers and shakers of that time. Several other presidents had followed FDR's lead and they too had held their post election parties here at the New Yorker. Tonight's party certainly was living up to the hotels reputation. The guests had started arriving at 6 pm. As old friends mingled and got caught up, waiters in white tuxedos walked through the crowd serving flutes of perrier-jouet champagne. Over to the side on the slightly raised stage area Arnie Johnson and the Starry Night Orchestra quietly played along in the background. Their job now was to provide soft, soothing background music. Later after dinner the guests would have the chance be able to dance with their partners or just relax and enjoy the music. At 8:00 pm sharp dinner was served. The tables were covered with white linens and fine royal doulton china. Each table featured a vase centerpiece that was full of long stem red roses and dainty babies breath. After everyone had been seated Joseph Peterson, this years host and planner, raised his glass and offered a toast. To another year of health, good fortune and most of all, the reason they were all here. Love. May they enjoy this meal, each other and the one they brought with them tonight. The party goers dined on beef bourguignon, asparagus with cannellina bean sauce and grilled rosemary lamb chops. The wait staff kept busy attending to every need. Chairs were pulled out and pushed in for the ladies. Glasses were refilled as soon as they were empty. A little after 9 Arnie and the band gathered themselves back out on the stage. The four trumpet players blasted out a note and the rest of the musicians followed suit. Soon the band was belting out My Old Flame. Martha Kellerman was the first one up. She grabbed her husband John and with a laugh pulled him to his feet and started to tug him towards the dance floor. "If you all will excuse me," he said to his friends as they all laughed and raised their glasses. His wife was usually the first one on the floor every year and this was one was no exception. Soon others joined them. Karla and Steven Franz. Robert and Carol Steinman. By the time the band was finishing their song more then half of the couples were on the dance floor. When My Old Flame finished Arnie stepped up to the microphone as his audience applauded him. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you all for coming out tonight. I trust you all are having a wonderful evening and I hope that it continues. Please allow us to play some of your favorite songs and if you have any special requests by all means come up and let us know. In the meantime feel free to dance along or just sit back and socialize. The night is young and we aren't going anywhere for awhile. Again, thank you and happy valentines day!" More applause and then Arnie started to croon out their rendition of Love Sends a Little Gift of Roses as his orchestra backed him up. Up at the bar the bartender tended to a group of men who were enjoying some after dinner drinks and getting caught up with each other. Their wives congregated around a couple of the tables and shared stories that only women could tell and would want to hear for that matter. Keith Owens finished his drink and sat it down on the polished mahogany wood. Right away Stan was there. "Can I fill your glass Mr. Owens?" "No Stan, not quite yet." answered Keith and excused himself. He had been keeping a eye on Martha and John out on the dance floor, mostly on Martha. He had always found her to be a beautiful woman and he always felt a tinge of jealousy towards her husband John. Keith reached over and pulled out one of the long stem roses from the centerpiece vase that sat on the first table he passed on the way up to the dance floor. Approaching Martha's husband from behind he tapped him on the shoulder. John turned to see Keith standing there with a rose in his hand. "May I have this dance with your lovely wife John," Keith asked the man. "Why of course Mr. Owens you may. I need a break anyway. This woman is wearing me out! Martha, excuse me. I'll be up at the bar." "For you Martha" as Keith handed her the long stem rose. "Mr Owens, my your quite the charmer aren't you?" she asked him coyly. "I only get that way when I behold beauty Madam. May I have this dance?" "You may. What shall I do with this lovely flower you brought me?" "Here, give it to me. I'll lay it over here on the floor and I'll retrieve it for you after you've honored me with a dance." Keith took the rose and walked over to the edge of the stage and laid the flower on the floor. Right up by the stage it would be safe from getting stepped on or kicked around. He whisked back over and extended his right hand and Martha grabbed it with hers. He pulled her into him with his left and soon they were moving in time to the music as Arnie continued singing in his soft deep voice. "I gotta tell you Martha, you look stunning. You don't look like you have aged a day since last year." "Mr. Owens, if I didn't know you too be such a upstanding gentleman and a pillar of the community I would think you were coming on to me." Keith laughed as he weaved to the left with Mrs. Kellerman pulled tight. Meanwhile, outside the closed ballroom doors and down the hallway, maintenance man Mike Brooks was coming out of room 916. He looked at his watch and saw it read 9:40. He mentally cursed at himself for taking so long repairing the leak under the sink in the bathroom. The guests that had checked out that day had brought it to the attention of the front desk and the work order was added to Mike's long list of repairs that had to be done that day. He would have been able to leave on time at 5:30 if his two coworkers hadn't called in sick and abandoned him for that day. Course he couldn't much blame them. It was valentines day and both of them were newly weds celebrating their first valentines day married. He and his wife Debbie were veterans he guessed. They had been together for twelve years now so postponing their celebration a day or two wouldn't hurt. He had called her to tell her that he had had to cancel their dinner reservations. He simply could not leave work until the emergency repairs were done. He promised her that he would make it up to her this weekend and she had laughed and told him that he better! "Get your work done and get home here," she had playfully told him. Mike smiled as he thought of that. He pulled the door behind him shut and turned left to head to the elevator. After two steps Mike stopped. He cocked his head slightly. Was that music he heard? Very faintly, he thought that he did. Briefly, his breathing stopped and he remained motionless as he concentrated on any sound his ears might hear. There was only one. And it was music. But where could it be coming from? There were sixteen rooms on this floor and only a few of them were occupied. He turned around and started walking back in the opposite direction. Every five or six steps he would stop and retrain his ears. Clearly as anything he continued to hear the music. And now not only music but it sounded like voices and laughter were mixed in with it as well. Suddenly he was aware that his increasing heartbeat was starting to compete with the music in his ears. Was it coming from the ballroom? Maybe it was possible that the hotel was having a party here tonight but if they were he wasn't aware of it. Besides, they hadn't used this place in the twelve years he had worked here. He knew the story. The place was once been THE meeting place in New York city and it had hosted hundreds of events. But as time went by the owners of the hotel realized they needed a much more bigger and more modern meeting place if they were to hang on to their reputation as one of the city's finest hotels. So, twenty years ago they had gutted the entire top floor and converted it into the hotels new convention room that could play host to anything. Matter of fact, they were using it tonight and hosting the twenty first annual valentines dinner and dance gala. As Mike approached the former ballroom he knew that he had found the source of the noise. There WAS music playing on the other side of the shut doors. He placed his ear against the door, instantly think how dumb of a thing to do. Did he need to hear it any clearer then he was hearing it just standing here? There was no mistaking it. Someone was having a party in the old ballroom. He reached out to try the door and that's when he noticed his hand was shaking. He mentally guided it to the door handle and grasped it weakly in his hand. The handle felt cold. Really cold. Cold to the point that it almost hurt to have to grip it tight enough to be able to turn it to open the door. With his heart now pounding inside his chest he tried the door. Locked. Now his mind was racing. What should he do? Should he call the front desk and ask them who's using the room? They might tell him that yes, someone is hosting a private affair in there tonight. Only problem with that is he had been working right down the hallway for the last two hours and hadn't heard anyone coming or going. If they answered that no one was using it then what? Would they think he was joking with them? What would they say if he told them that it was locked, supposedly empty but he could hear music and voices on the other side of the shut, locked doors. He decided to just knock on the door and find out himself who was in there. With a hand that was still shaky he tapped on the massive wooden door. Tap, Tap, Tap. No answer. The music kept playing. The people continued to talk and laugh. Regaining a little of his courage Mike pounded on the door. Louder this time. After the third knock the music died and the chatter ceased. He put his ear back up to the door and listened while deciding it didn't matter how dumb he looked.. Complete silence. "Who's in there?" asked Mike with a voice that now had turned dry and raspy, devoid of any moisture. Again, silence. With hands that had gone from shaky to full out trembling, Mike reached down and removed his keys from his tool belt. He had a key to every door of the New Yorker on his key ring. He knew he had one to the old ballroom but which one was it? All the keys were numbered and he knew the ones he used the most but it had been years since he had been in here. Fumbling through the keys with hands that didn't want to cooperate, he stopped on one that stood out from the rest. It was older looking. The initials B.R were burnt on the side. This was it! Mike took several deep breathes and tried to will his heart and hands to slow down. Using both hands (one to hold, one to guide) he slid the key in the door knob and turned it. He felt the tumblers inside the handle turn and drop and he knew he had unlocked the door. After replacing his keys on his belt he grabbed the cold door handle again. This time it didn't resist and opened for him. Slowly he pushed open the door and as the first crack between the two doors appeared Mike saw total darkness. Still pushing ever so slowly he reached down on the other side of his belt and removed his flashlight. His heart returned to it's rapid beating but now it felt like it was in his head and throat. A wave of fear came over him that he had never felt before. Every hair on his head and body seemed to stand at attention. "Hello" he attempted to say but instead it came out like some kind of guttural groan. He squeezed through the opening in the doors and surprised himself by how quickly he reached the side of the door where the master light switch was. He turned on the light switch and heard a muffled popping sound and saw the faintest glow of light start in the chandeliers. He remembered that these lights were slow to fully come on and it took time for them to do so. He turned on his flashlight and lifted it up so the beam of light shone out in front of him. The ray of light showed tables covered with protective sheets and boxes stacked on them. As he moved the light to his right he could see the stage platform. More boxes were stacked on it. In the light given off by his flashlight the cardboard looked yellow and faded. As the light from the chandeliers started to grow stronger Mike could see that boxes were everywhere in this room. Apparently the old ballroom of the New Yorker had become a storage unit. Old signs leaned against the far left wall. The bar towards the back had long ago gone dry. The once dark and deeply rich mahogany bar now was faded, covered with dust. The mirror behind it was dirty and reflected only junk. His courage seemed to grow as the light from above did. He slipped inside the room and turned off his flashlight. Didn't need it anymore. As he holstered it back into his tool belt something caught his eye. There was something on the floor up by the old stage. It had color to it. Color in this old, musty smelling room where most of the colors had faded away a long time ago. Mike walked toward the object to investigate. As he approached it he stopped and bent down to pick it up. It was a single long stem red rose. He felt it to make sure it was real. It was. He smelled it and it offered fragrance over the staleness of the room. Whoever had dropped this flower in this room had been here recently. Very recently. As he scratched his head and tried to make sense of all this he heard what sounded like a lady giggle behind him. Whipping around in a instant he shouted out "Who's there!" Another giggle and then Mike felt bodies all around him. He couldn't see them but he didn't have to. He sensed them. He felt them. Standing on what used to be the old dance floor he felt surrounded by them. The terror he had felt before came rushing back like a freight train. Mike dropped the rose and bolted towards the door. Getting out of this place was the only thing his mind could focus on. He raced across the room and bolted out of the door that he came in through. He hit the hallway at full stride and didn't even stop to take the elevator down. The stairs were straight ahead and they would do just fine. Meanwhile, back in the direction Mike had just come from, the light was starting to fade again inside the old ballroom. The light switch was now in the off position and just as it took several minutes for the lights to power up it also took them time to fully shut off. With the last bit of light fading, the door to the ballroom slammed shut. The lock tumblers could be heard falling in place. And then the music started again.
February 14th. Valentines day, or evening as it actually was, and the annual dinner and dance ball was in full swing. Just like every year, the event hosted some of New York's finest. This was not a cheap event by any means. The per couple price tag to attend was more then most New Yorkers made in six, maybe even seven, months of employment. Most of the attendees had known extravagances like this their whole lives. Born into families that had made their fortunes long ago and tonight's guests had continued in those family businesses. There were wall street investors here. Men (and women) whose grandparents had formed companies that ran the gauntlet from oil and gas to railroads and real estate. Thus making the party a very exclusive event. Those attending had been attending for many years and wouldn't dream of missing it. The setting each year was in the ballroom of the very posh New Yorker hotel on the upper side of Manhattan. Located on the 9th floor of the twenty four story hotel, the ballroom was the perfect venue for this party. The history of the place and the hotel was rich and far reaching. Built back in the 20's, the hotel had played host to several past presidents and celebrities over the years. Franklin D Roosevelt was the first president to visit. He had thrown a huge party here after defeating Hoover in 32. In fact, several of the idea's that made up his New Deal to help pull the county out of the great depression had been born that night in this very room with some of the movers and shakers of that time. Several other presidents had followed FDR's lead and they too had held their post election parties here at the New Yorker. Tonight's party certainly was living up to the hotels reputation. The guests had started arriving at 6 pm. As old friends mingled and got caught up, waiters in white tuxedos walked through the crowd serving flutes of perrier-jouet champagne. Over to the side on the slightly raised stage area Arnie Johnson and the Starry Night Orchestra quietly played along in the background. Their job now was to provide soft, soothing background music. Later after dinner the guests would have the chance be able to dance with their partners or just relax and enjoy the music. At 8:00 pm sharp dinner was served. The tables were covered with white linens and fine royal doulton china. Each table featured a vase centerpiece that was full of long stem red roses and dainty babies breath. After everyone had been seated Joseph Peterson, this years host and planner, raised his glass and offered a toast. To another year of health, good fortune and most of all, the reason they were all here. Love. May they enjoy this meal, each other and the one they brought with them tonight. The party goers dined on beef bourguignon, asparagus with cannellina bean sauce and grilled rosemary lamb chops. The wait staff kept busy attending to every need. Chairs were pulled out and pushed in for the ladies. Glasses were refilled as soon as they were empty. A little after 9 Arnie and the band gathered themselves back out on the stage. The four trumpet players blasted out a note and the rest of the musicians followed suit. Soon the band was belting out My Old Flame. Martha Kellerman was the first one up. She grabbed her husband John and with a laugh pulled him to his feet and started to tug him towards the dance floor. "If you all will excuse me," he said to his friends as they all laughed and raised their glasses. His wife was usually the first one on the floor every year and this was one was no exception. Soon others joined them. Karla and Steven Franz. Robert and Carol Steinman. By the time the band was finishing their song more then half of the couples were on the dance floor. When My Old Flame finished Arnie stepped up to the microphone as his audience applauded him. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you all for coming out tonight. I trust you all are having a wonderful evening and I hope that it continues. Please allow us to play some of your favorite songs and if you have any special requests by all means come up and let us know. In the meantime feel free to dance along or just sit back and socialize. The night is young and we aren't going anywhere for awhile. Again, thank you and happy valentines day!" More applause and then Arnie started to croon out their rendition of Love Sends a Little Gift of Roses as his orchestra backed him up. Up at the bar the bartender tended to a group of men who were enjoying some after dinner drinks and getting caught up with each other. Their wives congregated around a couple of the tables and shared stories that only women could tell and would want to hear for that matter. Keith Owens finished his drink and sat it down on the polished mahogany wood. Right away Stan was there. "Can I fill your glass Mr. Owens?" "No Stan, not quite yet." answered Keith and excused himself. He had been keeping a eye on Martha and John out on the dance floor, mostly on Martha. He had always found her to be a beautiful woman and he always felt a tinge of jealousy towards her husband John. Keith reached over and pulled out one of the long stem roses from the centerpiece vase that sat on the first table he passed on the way up to the dance floor. Approaching Martha's husband from behind he tapped him on the shoulder. John turned to see Keith standing there with a rose in his hand. "May I have this dance with your lovely wife John," Keith asked the man. "Why of course Mr. Owens you may. I need a break anyway. This woman is wearing me out! Martha, excuse me. I'll be up at the bar." "For you Martha" as Keith handed her the long stem rose. "Mr Owens, my your quite the charmer aren't you?" she asked him coyly. "I only get that way when I behold beauty Madam. May I have this dance?" "You may. What shall I do with this lovely flower you brought me?" "Here, give it to me. I'll lay it over here on the floor and I'll retrieve it for you after you've honored me with a dance." Keith took the rose and walked over to the edge of the stage and laid the flower on the floor. Right up by the stage it would be safe from getting stepped on or kicked around. He whisked back over and extended his right hand and Martha grabbed it with hers. He pulled her into him with his left and soon they were moving in time to the music as Arnie continued singing in his soft deep voice. "I gotta tell you Martha, you look stunning. You don't look like you have aged a day since last year." "Mr. Owens, if I didn't know you too be such a upstanding gentleman and a pillar of the community I would think you were coming on to me." Keith laughed as he weaved to the left with Mrs. Kellerman pulled tight. Meanwhile, outside the closed ballroom doors and down the hallway, maintenance man Mike Brooks was coming out of room 916. He looked at his watch and saw it read 9:40. He mentally cursed at himself for taking so long repairing the leak under the sink in the bathroom. The guests that had checked out that day had brought it to the attention of the front desk and the work order was added to Mike's long list of repairs that had to be done that day. He would have been able to leave on time at 5:30 if his two coworkers hadn't called in sick and abandoned him for that day. Course he couldn't much blame them. It was valentines day and both of them were newly weds celebrating their first valentines day married. He and his wife Debbie were veterans he guessed. They had been together for twelve years now so postponing their celebration a day or two wouldn't hurt. He had called her to tell her that he had had to cancel their dinner reservations. He simply could not leave work until the emergency repairs were done. He promised her that he would make it up to her this weekend and she had laughed and told him that he better! "Get your work done and get home here," she had playfully told him. Mike smiled as he thought of that. He pulled the door behind him shut and turned left to head to the elevator. After two steps Mike stopped. He cocked his head slightly. Was that music he heard? Very faintly, he thought that he did. Briefly, his breathing stopped and he remained motionless as he concentrated on any sound his ears might hear. There was only one. And it was music. But where could it be coming from? There were sixteen rooms on this floor and only a few of them were occupied. He turned around and started walking back in the opposite direction. Every five or six steps he would stop and retrain his ears. Clearly as anything he continued to hear the music. And now not only music but it sounded like voices and laughter were mixed in with it as well. Suddenly he was aware that his increasing heartbeat was starting to compete with the music in his ears. Was it coming from the ballroom? Maybe it was possible that the hotel was having a party here tonight but if they were he wasn't aware of it. Besides, they hadn't used this place in the twelve years he had worked here. He knew the story. The place was once been THE meeting place in New York city and it had hosted hundreds of events. But as time went by the owners of the hotel realized they needed a much more bigger and more modern meeting place if they were to hang on to their reputation as one of the city's finest hotels. So, twenty years ago they had gutted the entire top floor and converted it into the hotels new convention room that could play host to anything. Matter of fact, they were using it tonight and hosting the twenty first annual valentines dinner and dance gala. As Mike approached the former ballroom he knew that he had found the source of the noise. There WAS music playing on the other side of the shut doors. He placed his ear against the door, instantly think how dumb of a thing to do. Did he need to hear it any clearer then he was hearing it just standing here? There was no mistaking it. Someone was having a party in the old ballroom. He reached out to try the door and that's when he noticed his hand was shaking. He mentally guided it to the door handle and grasped it weakly in his hand. The handle felt cold. Really cold. Cold to the point that it almost hurt to have to grip it tight enough to be able to turn it to open the door. With his heart now pounding inside his chest he tried the door. Locked. Now his mind was racing. What should he do? Should he call the front desk and ask them who's using the room? They might tell him that yes, someone is hosting a private affair in there tonight. Only problem with that is he had been working right down the hallway for the last two hours and hadn't heard anyone coming or going. If they answered that no one was using it then what? Would they think he was joking with them? What would they say if he told them that it was locked, supposedly empty but he could hear music and voices on the other side of the shut, locked doors. He decided to just knock on the door and find out himself who was in there. With a hand that was still shaky he tapped on the massive wooden door. Tap, Tap, Tap. No answer. The music kept playing. The people continued to talk and laugh. Regaining a little of his courage Mike pounded on the door. Louder this time. After the third knock the music died and the chatter ceased. He put his ear back up to the door and listened while deciding it didn't matter how dumb he looked.. Complete silence. "Who's in there?" asked Mike with a voice that now had turned dry and raspy, devoid of any moisture. Again, silence. With hands that had gone from shaky to full out trembling, Mike reached down and removed his keys from his tool belt. He had a key to every door of the New Yorker on his key ring. He knew he had one to the old ballroom but which one was it? All the keys were numbered and he knew the ones he used the most but it had been years since he had been in here. Fumbling through the keys with hands that didn't want to cooperate, he stopped on one that stood out from the rest. It was older looking. The initials B.R were burnt on the side. This was it! Mike took several deep breathes and tried to will his heart and hands to slow down. Using both hands (one to hold, one to guide) he slid the key in the door knob and turned it. He felt the tumblers inside the handle turn and drop and he knew he had unlocked the door. After replacing his keys on his belt he grabbed the cold door handle again. This time it didn't resist and opened for him. Slowly he pushed open the door and as the first crack between the two doors appeared Mike saw total darkness. Still pushing ever so slowly he reached down on the other side of his belt and removed his flashlight. His heart returned to it's rapid beating but now it felt like it was in his head and throat. A wave of fear came over him that he had never felt before. Every hair on his head and body seemed to stand at attention. "Hello" he attempted to say but instead it came out like some kind of guttural groan. He squeezed through the opening in the doors and surprised himself by how quickly he reached the side of the door where the master light switch was. He turned on the light switch and heard a muffled popping sound and saw the faintest glow of light start in the chandeliers. He remembered that these lights were slow to fully come on and it took time for them to do so. He turned on his flashlight and lifted it up so the beam of light shone out in front of him. The ray of light showed tables covered with protective sheets and boxes stacked on them. As he moved the light to his right he could see the stage platform. More boxes were stacked on it. In the light given off by his flashlight the cardboard looked yellow and faded. As the light from the chandeliers started to grow stronger Mike could see that boxes were everywhere in this room. Apparently the old ballroom of the New Yorker had become a storage unit. Old signs leaned against the far left wall. The bar towards the back had long ago gone dry. The once dark and deeply rich mahogany bar now was faded, covered with dust. The mirror behind it was dirty and reflected only junk. His courage seemed to grow as the light from above did. He slipped inside the room and turned off his flashlight. Didn't need it anymore. As he holstered it back into his tool belt something caught his eye. There was something on the floor up by the old stage. It had color to it. Color in this old, musty smelling room where most of the colors had faded away a long time ago. Mike walked toward the object to investigate. As he approached it he stopped and bent down to pick it up. It was a single long stem red rose. He felt it to make sure it was real. It was. He smelled it and it offered fragrance over the staleness of the room. Whoever had dropped this flower in this room had been here recently. Very recently. As he scratched his head and tried to make sense of all this he heard what sounded like a lady giggle behind him. Whipping around in a instant he shouted out "Who's there!" Another giggle and then Mike felt bodies all around him. He couldn't see them but he didn't have to. He sensed them. He felt them. Standing on what used to be the old dance floor he felt surrounded by them. The terror he had felt before came rushing back like a freight train. Mike dropped the rose and bolted towards the door. Getting out of this place was the only thing his mind could focus on. He raced across the room and bolted out of the door that he came in through. He hit the hallway at full stride and didn't even stop to take the elevator down. The stairs were straight ahead and they would do just fine. Meanwhile, back in the direction Mike had just come from, the light was starting to fade again inside the old ballroom. The light switch was now in the off position and just as it took several minutes for the lights to power up it also took them time to fully shut off. With the last bit of light fading, the door to the ballroom slammed shut. The lock tumblers could be heard falling in place. And then the music started again.
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