Ramblings and Ruminations

Prompt: Whistle

It started, as most great ideas do, in a pub called Maude's just off the SUNY campus on a super-cold evening in Potsdam, NY

We used to go there for the coffee. It was awful, but we found that with just the right sweetener, it was tolerable. My sweetener of choice was Southern Comfort. Jack's was apricot flavored brandy.

Maude really existed. She sat at the end of the bar and kept an eye on things. Remind me sometime to tell you about that eye. It stared straight ahead but saw everything.

But I digress.

I guess I owe "The Idea" to Maude's décor. That and Mark Twain. The bar was decorated in what I would charitably describe as Early Americana. Meaning whatever was there when Maude bought the place fifty years ago was still there fifty years later. Including hundreds of books.

One of which caught my eye. It was third down in a stack on a skittles tray. I had to move a beige and green milkshake mixer to get to it. I was reading the book when Jack came in.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked as he moved the mixer from his chair to the floor and sat. He signaled Melody, the bartender, for his usual but she turned away and pretended she didn't see him.

"Reading"

"Why?"

"Well, you weren't here, for one. Why are you always 30 minutes late?" Then I told him, "it is research. This story gave me an idea."

Jack picked up the book. "The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County?"

I grabbed the book back from him. "We are going to sponsor a frog-jumping contest. We'll charge entry fees, sell beer, and make a fortune."

Jack was shaking his head. "That's just stupid. Who is gonna pay to enter a frog-jumping contest?"

"Techies, for one. We'll pitch it as Clarkson against SUNY. They won't be able to resist."

Jack scratched his head. "It's February.. Where is anybody going to get a frog? And do you know anything about frog jumping? Don't you need space?"

As it turned out, those were all good questions. It took another month and many, many late night coffees to revise the plan and sort out the details. I had to give up on the jumping frog idea but I came up with something even better.

Maude refused to sponsor us. In a stroke of genius, I approached the Arlington Hotel, which tries to be neutral but is mostly a techie bar. They offered the old ballroom and agreed to pay for the advertising as long as they could sell the beer. Which was fine with me. I didn't want to have to lug around kegs and cups anyways.

We hyped it good. I went on the radio and explained the finer points of the race; how to find and train your critter, and so forth. Celebrity challenges were issued. Finally, the big day arrived. The ballroom was packed as contestants arranged themselves around the table.

Bets and boasts were rampant.

Vince Schmaltz, the sports announcer for the local radio station, announced the first heat.

I lifted a whistle to my lips, paused for dramatic effect, and blew for all I was worth.

The first annual collegiate snail race had begun.