Cross Roads

Outside, the storm was relentless, but Cue shoved the gears into their 4-wheel drive, and slowly headed down the road toward the local motels. He’d gone maybe five miles when he saw the lights. Pulling into the parking lot, he left the car with the engine still running, and ran from room to room knocking and announcing that he would take them to Sticks where they’d find music, a warm fire, and people to help turn the storm into an enjoyable event. He found several takers and filled the car, promising to be back for the others. Working his way back to Sticks, he made a call to an old friend. “Jim, call your buddies. I need a band tonight, Sticks is having a blizzard party. Have you got a way to get your gear there?”

“Look, man. I’ll see what I can do but this gives new meaning to the phrase, last minute notice.”

Knowing that his singer friend would warm up to the idea, Cue hung up, feeling confidant it would all come together.

It was during Cue’s sixth trip as a taxi driver that his singer friend returned his call. “That’s good. I’ll be by to pick you up within the hour.”  Each time Cue unloaded the Jeep, there were more cars and trucks parked at Sticks from travelers who had given up on their stormy travels. His last trip was to pick up the band. They had a van that could make the dangerous trip, so they packed the instruments and started the caravan. It was nearly ten when he helped them unload their gear, making their way through the now packed restaurant.