The Life We Once Knew

Japan

Anyone can tell you that The Beatles 1966 tour was disastrous. There wasn't a single stop that proved to be different. It was that tour that solidified the future of the world's greatest band. I'm less than proud to say, I was a part of it.

Japan was a beautiful country. There was so much history there, but I could see none of it. I saw none of the tranquil gardens or beautiful structures. All I saw was the inside of a hotel and the angry faces of Japanese policemen.

"Vera, please," I begged, "Calm down."

The baby was wailing. She had her tiny fists clenched as tightly as they would go and her face was turning into a cherry. Tears poured down her cheeks as she wailed. I tried rocking her, singing to her, and even walking her around the room. Nothing helped.

Vera never did well when she was trapped inside for long periods of time. I usually took her on a daily walk, but that was impossible when we were on tour. We could barely leave the room let alone go outside. It was practically a death sentence for us.

Yet, I had to do something. Her screaming was beginning to give me a headache, and I'm sure the rest of the floor wasn't too happy about it either. I had to get her outside, even if it were only for a moment. Glancing at the window, I decided I would risk it.

"Alright, Junior, if that's what you want," I muttered.

I grabbed her jacket as well as her boots. She seemed happier once I began to dress her, as if she realized exactly what we were doing. Her grin showed her three teeth that were only just beginning to come in to the back of her mouth.

"Melly!" she shouted in her tiny voice.

I chuckled, "Love you too, Junior."

Once she was dressed, I slipped on my boots and we began to head towards the lift. Three police officers were lined in front of the copper doors. It was difficult to know whether they were there to keep people from coming in, or to keep us from going out.

"Sorry, Ma'am, nobody is allowed to leave," the tallest police officer said whenever I tried to step past them.

I lifted an eyebrow, "Chap, have you heard the wails coming from down the hall?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"That was this baby," I gestured to Vera, "She's got a touch of the deadly Cabin Fever and, if I don't get her outside, she will keep screaming."

Vera sniffled as if accentuating my point. I gestured to her, looking at the officer with a mixed glare of pleading and threatening. The officer glanced between us, un phased, and shook his head, "I'm sorry, we are on strict orders not to let anybody on or off of this floor."

"Sir, I must-"

"You will stay here," he ordered, "Return to your room."

His voice had turned from pleasant to strict, like a stern schoolteacher. I glared at him and huffed before spinning on my heel and stomping down the hall. All the while, muttering under my breath several obscenities that would make any old lady gasp.

I've seen security measures, but none as heavy as this. They were treating us like prisoners rather than performers, it was ridiculous! All because The Beatles had a few crazy fans, they were never allowed to see the sun.

I took Vera to Paul and John's room. She wouldn't be happy if I took her back to our room, she needed a change of scenery, any change of scenery. I couldn't blame the kid, I was beginning to feel cooped up as well. It seemed as if you couldn't have a tour without a healthy dose of cabin fever.

The door opened just a few seconds after I knocked. John stood there with his shirt buttoned crooked and his tie halfway done. He glanced at me and lifted an eyebrow, "It's you who's been screaming?"