Woodstock

My Week #35 Submission

Jack picked up his future and looked one last time before calling the New Yorker’s raise.

“All in.” Jack pushed what was left of his slight pile of bills and change into the pot.

Tommy guessed Jack had the Yank beat, so he went all in on his straight, too. Just so as to goat’em into taking the bet.

The tall one folded and turned to the other one like a lost pup. The fat one wasn’t looking at his companion, or his cards. He was locked in on Jack — his stare cold.

“That’s all our money Gary, how are we going to…”

“Shut up,” Gary said, and smacked his flunkie friend with his cap. Then he reached inside his coat pocket and tossed two tickets onto the pile.

“I ain’t interested in nothn’ but cash, boys,” Jack said, snubbing the imposter paper.

“You can’t lose our Woodstock tickets!” Hollered the tall one. He was beginning to get excited. But his buddy calmed him down again real quick like.

Jack’s interest was piqued. “What’s a Woodstock?”

“The Woodstock Arts and Music Festival. How could you not have heard about it? The biggest bands in the country will be there. Those tickets are worth $18 each.”

“Where’s this concert gone be?”

“Up in the Catskill mountains.”

Jack didn’t know where the Catskill Mountains were, but damned if he’d let this Yank know it.

“Alright then, I’ll accept your wager.” He laid down his single stack of cards face down — then flipped them and spread not three, but four Jacks. Topped’em off with an Ace.

The fat one threw his Full House down in disgust before Tom could even show his little four card straight.

“Whoo hoo! Looks like we’re going to Woodstock with a pocket full of dollars, Tommy Boy! Hey Brian, four cold ones if you don’t mind.”

Jack raked the pot into his hat and headed to the bar. Tom followed quickly.

“Hey Jack, I’m wondering something.”

“I don’t know where the Catskills are either,” Jack answered before Tommy could continue. Then turned to Brian as the frosty mugs were placed on the counter. “Do you know where the Catskill Mountains are?”

“Upstate New York.”

He looked at the tickets again. The dates read, August 15th, 16th, & 17th.

“Whoa, we’re about to go on a by-God-sure-enough adventure, Tommy Boy. The son-of-a-bitch is this weekend!”

“Why New York is a two or three day drive from here, Jack,” Tom said nervously. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m as serious as a pisst-off Boar Hawg, son. I’mma going, with or without ya.”

He picked up three of the mugs and headed towards the disappointed New Yorkers. “Here ya go Boys,” he said, as he set a beer down in front of each of’em. “There’s always next time.”

The fat one grumbled something Jack chose to take as unintelligible. Then tipped his hat bill, and turned on his heel. He drained the rest of his beer, and tossed a five on the bar for Brian as he made for the door with his booty.

Tom was in the passenger seat of Jack’s Ol’ Chevy before he’d even had a chance to get in himself.

“You changed your mind, I reckon.”

“Well, I figure if’n you’re headed up into Yankee territory, I ort not let’cha go by yerself.”

Jack didn’t answer so much as just breathe hard once. Then backed out of the gravel parking lot and pulled out onto US-1 North.

He’d stopped by his Nan’s and grabbed’em a biscuit and some blankets, and they still made it to Savannah before day break. There they had the option to get on the interstate. Some kind of new super highway. It did end up making the traveling a whole lot simpler. Hell all you had to do was just get on and go. They weren’t no stop signs on the whole dern thing! The only thing was, it wasn’t finished yet. So they kept having to get off and it’d take a while to find it again.

Tommy wasn’t much with a map, either. So it’s a good thing that Jack had a keen sense of direction. Them boys made it all the way up into, Washington D.C., before Jack decided to pull over for some rest. He told Tommy to keep to US-1 North, then leaned against the window and went out.

Some time later Jack woke up to a jerk. Then was almost flung into the ceiling of the pickup when the truck hit another pot hole.

“Goddamn Tom, what are you doing? Slow the hell down!”

Tom slammed on the brakes, damn near throwing them both through the front windshield.

“I’m sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I’d gotten lost and was trying to turn around, and got more lost.”

Jack just put his head in his hands for a beat, then took a deep breath and opened the passenger door to exit. He exhaled and looked at Tom, then thought better and just walked around and climbed back into the driver’s seat. Tom had slid to his rightful position by now, and started to say something. But Jack just raised his hand in a hold that thought gesture, so Tommy did.

In an hour the boys were back on track and on schedule to make it by Friday’s opening act, Sweetwater. Motherless Child was one of Jack’s favorite songs, and he sure didn’t want to miss it. He got more and more excited about this whole thing, the closer and closer they got to it.

They drove through New York City just for the hell of it. Then picked up some hitchhikers in Poughkeepsie. The girl hopped right up front like she belonged there all her life. The two fellas she was with rode in the pickup bed. Diane was her name. They were going to the festival too.

She tuned the radio station until she found what she was huntn — The ABB, Not My Cross To Bear began playing. And just like that, Diane had him.

Now Jack had never been the type to let a girl snag him like that, but Diane put a spell on that boy. Let me tell you all something right now, that boy was in a love struck daze all weekend. I mean, I’m telling y’all he’d done swallered the bait whole.

Them two was inseparable for all three days of that there festival. Hell, Jack would pick Diane up and tote’er, before he’d ever let her walk through a muddy spot. He turned into a proper gentleman on that trip.

And when it was all over, you know what he did? He plum stayed up in them there Catskills. Diane’s Pa had a Loggin’ business up there. Jack’s running it now. Turned it into a real big deal if’n I ain’t mistaken. The two of them got great-grandchildren running around now too.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about Woodstock – I mean, Uncle Tom. He didn’t come back for some years. Somehow ended up as a roadie for Creedence Clearwater Revival.

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Thanks for reading! I Hope this’ll inspire you to make your own submission to this week’s writing prompt, Woodstock, by Joni Mitchell!

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