Door OneOSix
is an online, serialised reality Soap Opera about the staff and patrons of a
very upscale bar, located on the 50th floor of a building in the heart of
Toronto's financial district. It is raunchy, it's funny, most of all it is real
life. So come on in and spend a few minutes with us and escape from your own
world, at least ours disappears with a mouse click.
By
Continued from episode One, The
Welcome
Booth 13.
Dolly is assigned booth 13 and she is happy for
that. She likes the four people who are sitting there. They are not only regulars,
but also big tippers and as far as she knows, they are all filthy rich.
“Can you believe it took almost a week for the world’s most powerful
nation to come to the rescue of its own citizens after the hurricane.” says Dr.
Ben Cho, shoving heaping forkfuls of linguini, covered in seafood sauce into
his mouth. Ben Cho, unlike his other three close friends sharing the booth with
him, is a third generation Canadian, born in Vancouver, but he received his
professional education in Montreal, Paris, New York, and Toronto.
“Man, It doesn’t surprise me, what I do not understand
is the fact that all three levels of
government, Local, State and Federal were told that it was going to be a
category five hurricane by the weather office, and they did almost nothing to
prepare for the eventuality of massive casualties.” Adds Joe Armstrong, an
African Canadian. Joe is a first generation Canadian, who was educated in
Washington and Toronto. Joe switched to Real Estate after being a financial
analyst for twenty years. His specialty
is moving large, hard to sell commercial projects, usually valued in the
hundreds of millions.
The other two people in the booth with Ben and Joe are
Cindy Monasingh and her husband Darri, who are immigrants to Canada. The
Monasinghs own a chain of Pizza restaurants in Ontario and a number of office
towers in Manitoba and Saskatchewan.
Their backgrounds are way more interesting than either Joe or Ben’s. For
the most part their money is inherited. His father, much alike Jed Clampet, was
a farmer in Trinidad barely making ends meet, when Texaco found oil on his
three acres plot and since then life for his family of ten, counting he and his
wife has not been the same. Old man Monasingh saw that his children received
the best education that money could afford. However, of the six sons only two
were really university material and Demi is not one of them. Demi’s two sisters
never made it to post-secondary schools because they were given into previously
arranged marriages as children.
“You know,
back in the Caribbean, when we hear the word hurricane, we prepare for it, I
think that everyone forgot the fact that the area is really reclaimed swamp
land.” Cindy added.
Darri asks, “ Hey Ben, what the hell is this Fema?”
“Fema is suppose to stand for Federal Emergency
Management Agency, but by the way they F....up the situation in the Gulf area,
it should mean, For Elimination of Minorities At home.” They all smile. Ben was
about to add something to his comment,
but he saw Dolly returning to their table bringing their second round of
drinks.
A man and a woman are sitting. It is a cozy booth,
designed for intimate chats, fondling and sometimes even titillation. But
for these two, there is no touching only
an uncomfortable silence punctuated by nervous Q&As without much eye
contact. The man, about twenty-five, is neatly dressed in a blue blazer and a
St.Micheal’s College, University of Toronto tie. The woman wore a gray jacket
over a light pinkish blouse with a neckline that plunged almost to her waist,
exposing her ample cleavage. Out of
nervous embarrassment the woman tugs at the top of her blouse in an effort to
cover herself up.
The couple is Paul Mondessy and Scharon Nieves. The
drinks at their table are almost as full as when Izalia first delivered them a
half an hour earlier and here she is again, not for drinks but to bring them
free horsdoeuvres. It is part of OneOSix’s policies, if the patrons are not
drinking, then give them some free food and guilt them into drinking. Nine out
of ten times it worked.
“Thank you, but we didn’t order any food.” Paul says
when the platter laden with a variety of finger foods is placed on their table.
His face has the type of expression that you see on a child’s face when a
Christmas gift is opened and it is exactly what that child had hoped for, but
did not really asked for.
‘Oh no, this is courtesy of our establishment.”
“Thanks.” Both
Paul and Scharon say almost simultaneously.
Then came the kicker, “I’ll take your drinks away and
freshened them up for you”. And as always, like clock work, the patrons both
took big gulps of their drinks emptying their glasses, and as if scheduled, the
man, in this instance, Paul, says, “Just bring us two more please.” Izalia smiles, picks up their glasses, nods
her head to signal to the Bar it is a go and Buddy immediately starts their
drinks.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” Scharon says, initiating a conversation,
daintily holding her caviar topped cracker. Well it isn’t really expensive
caviar, but a cheap caviar like substance, mixed with a pinch of generic caviar
worked into a highly seasoned, grainy paste and sprinkled with more dollar
store caviar. It is one of Shabba’s specialties or as she called her
concoctions, Bajan ingenuity.
“I thought that you’d enjoy this place.” Paul says,
sneaking a peek at her bosom.
“So do you bring all of the girls you meet on the net
here?”
Paul smiles. He is too embarrassed to tell her that
this is his first time ever at Door One0Six and that even though he had met
many a woman in chat rooms etc she is the first one that he had actually met in
person, so he changes the subject. “Where did you say you went to school?”
“Guelph.” Her answer is short because now she had
discovered the smoke salmon which in this instance is real.
“I wanted to go away to school but my parents couldn’t
afford it.”
“Neither could mine, but I was lucky enough to get a
scholarship.”
“A keener, eh?” Paul ribs her a bit.
“Well look who’s talking, Mr. Articling lawyer.” They
both smile and then finish the last two
mini patties stuffed with spicy crab and lobster meat which once again are not
what the real thing.
Neither Paul nor Scharon, could be classified as real
drinkers, so by their third round of drinks, any inhibitions and reserve they
had entered Door One0Six with, are now rapidly melting like snowballs in the
Sahara desert.
Paul is five nine, with rather long arms, so it is
easy for him to get his left hand as far up her right leg as it will reach with
her assistance, which she provides by easing as far to the edge of her seat as
she could without slipping on to the floor.
“Still no word yet?” Mystra asks Buddy. There are
tears streaming down his face.
“I told you not to come in today.” Mystra says as she
cradles him in her arms to console him.
Buddy’s lover of only six weeks, Larry, went to
Louisiana for his mother’s funeral the
Friday before Katrina and was due to return the following Monday after. Buddy
has been coming to work everyday since then. With his patrons, he is cheery and
always smiling, and quite attentive to their every wish. But on his breaks he was a total mess.
Shabba comes into the office and she too joins the sob
party, by shedding a few tears and hugging Buddy. Shabba who is Arm Forces trained could be likened to a ripe
coconut, extra tough on the outside but soft on the inside. She is also one of
those people who tells it like it is. Or rather her opinion of what she thinks
it is. As she slowly pulls away from Buddy, she comments, “I don’t think that
you should have too much to worry about, after all your boyfriend’s mother
lived in the white affluent French
neighborhood which is above sea level, and by the looks of things, that area is
virtually untouched except for rain, which is to be expected, down phone lines
and the odd power outage, while as usual it is the poor Black folk that bore
the brunt of the wrath of the hurricane and it’s aftermath.” Shabba gives Buddy
another hug and returns to the kitchen.
There is an awkward silence in the room. Mystra is not
quite certain what, if any comment would be appropriate. Buddy dries his tears,
adjusts his uniform, kisses Mystra on the Cheek and returns to the Main Bar.
Mystra takes the opportunity to post Larry’s full name
online to as many Missing persons sites that she could find on the net.
The Lounge is standing room only, but yet it is not Smokey.
The exceedingly expensive ventilation system made certain that the eighty or so
people in that room are comfortable, even those smoking heavy Cuban cigars,
however it did nothing to quiet the noise within the room which, because of
recording studio like sound insulation never interfered with the Main Bar even
when the staff moved between the two rooms.
At Booth 20, Zack and Al are now joined by four other
people, two men and two women, all smokers and all Scotch drinkers. They are
watching the Baseball game between the New York Yankees and the Toronto Blue
Jays on their booth’s 17-inch monitor, without sound. The game is being played
in New York and it’s bottom of the ninth, the Jays are up by one run.
“Hey, Zacky, give us some sound.” Al suggested.
“Gawd, gotta listen to those two guys, sure wish we
could get the Yankee feed with their commentators.” Zack replied.
“Why? Just to hear them bash our Jays. The guys really
tried to make a go of it this year.” Gina one of the women says.
“We need to get some players like we had when we won
the World Series two years in a row back to back. Guys like Carter and Tony
Fernandes.”
“Hey you can’t forget Robbie Alamar” The other woman,
Lorna, interjects.
“And they couldn’t have done it without Cito Gaskin,
the only Black manager to ever win back to back World Series.” Cedric, Lorna’s live-in boyfriend adds.
“A brilliant technician he was, what a pity no other
club would hire him.” Zack pitches in.
“Then they say that the color bar in baseball has been
broken, Mate, I say it still exists, only it’s more transparent now.” Al shot
back.
“ Oh Yeah?
It is not so transparent if you have seen the pictures coming out of the
Super Dome. First time I saw those heart wrenching horrific pictures on TV
after Katrina, someone had to convince me that they are not photos from
Rwanda.” Chester the fourth man in the group says. Chester is Gina’s sometimes boyfriend. Theirs is one of those I
love you; I hate you type of relationships.
Up until that moment Chester, an Englishman, had sat quietly, looking at
the Baseball game but not really watching it. Cricket is more his game.
“A year or so ago,
FEMA sponsored a simulated Cat 3 hurricane called Pam to find out what would happen
to Louisiana if such a storm should hit that area, and the outcome was that
hundreds of people would die, the levees would break and it would be one of the
worst natural disasters America would see. So I can’t understand why FEMA
dropped the ball, having all of that info.” Cedric, an American working in
Canada for an American credit card company, he is not usually this critical of
his homeland. “The answer is simple, too many damn captains and not enough
sailors, everyone wants to give orders, and no one wants to take orders.”
“Add to that, the
fact that the left hand didn’t have a clue what the right hand was doing.”
Lorna added.
“Its a bloody
disgrace, that’s what it is, a bloody disgrace, I am ashamed of my beloved
country.” He adds.
Just then, A Rod slaps a hard hit ball delivered
by the second reliever of the inning, with one out and two men on. Second and
third. The ball sails high towards second base. It looks like it is sure to drop in and score the winning run.
Instead, second baseman Orlando Hudson jumps high in the air, grabs the ball,
and then throws to the plate beating the runner. Jays win.
The entire smoking room yells and cheers, within seconds, as if scripted, Izalia,
Dotty and Buddy are in the smoking room taking orders, while the main room,
where only a few people are watching the game is handled by Chikwanna, one of
the regular customers who dropped in for an after work cocktail or two and is
pressed into service. Chikwanna
occasionally helps as a server at OneOSix.
The scenarios and settings of this Weblog are fiction, but
the severity of the loss of life and displacement of the majority of people in
the beautiful and proud state Louisiana is anything but fiction. It is the
naked, harsh, reality of the power of Nature and the ineptitude of those in
government who had every opportunity to lessen the horrors experienced by the
less fortunate who were left helpless and exposed to the full wrath of Nature.
The miscommunications and miscalculations between Local, State and Federal
governments plus the slow to respond attitude of FEMA must surely be examined,
scrutinized, renovated, reexamined and be updated for the next disaster, which
may or may not be Natural.
And lets have one America, Proud and Free for all Americans
regardless of Race, Religion or Financial standing and where Aid and Assistance
by Race and Class is never, never again be perceived as a reality or general
practice.
http://www.redcross.org/donate/donate.html
Join me for the next episode; hopefully
it will be more like episode one.
Thanks
Hilda Agard & KHSBooks
hildaagard@yahoo.ca
The Show at Door OneOSix continues in
Episode Three, “Last Call”.
KHSBooks
are the publishers of the Splatt DeeKatt series of Children’s eBooks, The Great
KatzBee adult book “Tales From Up My Alley”, stories that your pet cat tells
the world about you. Hilda Agard’s
novel, “My Sisters’ Keeper” (Nov.2005) & Sister Muriel Anne’s “Praying
Effectively & Getting Positive Answers” (Nov.2005) with prayers and
readings selected from the Holy Bible and tailored to this hectic time in which
we live. Our eBooks are available at ebookad.com
Door OneOSix is copyrighted by KHSBooks
& Hilda Agard and may not be copied and distributed without the written
permission of both the publisher, KHSBooks and the author Hilda Agard.