I walked into the piano bar near the carnival where I worked. There had been a lot of controversy about juveniles being allowed in but when I entered still wearing my mask from my show, no one really cared about checking my age.
I had traveled with the carnival since I ran away from home and an abusive father two years ago. I may have been considered a juvenile in age but no in life experiences. I still felt a bit awkward when I approached the bartender. He looked at me with a gruff and asked: “Whadda ya have?”
I told him I wanted a sassafras spritz with a twirl of apple. He looked at me side-eyed and let out a deep sigh. He returned with my drink and one sip sent me straight up in my seat.
The bartender laughed.
“That’s the best version of this drink I have ever had. What did you do different?” I asked.
He leaned toward me and said: “It’s all in the oxidation of the apple son.”
I drank more and more.
The next morning I was face down in my trailer behind the carnival. I tried to get up but discovered I had sprained my ankle.
“What happened?” I asked my roommate.
“Too much of that apple twirl dude. You ended up singing on top of the piano. We had to come get you when you fell off the piano and sprained your ankle.”
I shook my head and said to myself: “Well, how do you like them apples?”