To Groupie or Not To Groupie

Prompt:  This week you have 350 words to write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece in which a local or regional item or industry plays a role. This actually happened--the movie Michael was filmed in Gruene, Texas.

 

Source: pronetowanderblog.com via Tina on Pinterest

 

 

"Are you going?"  Mary asked me. I looked at her in confusion.  She was always happy to be the bearer of news; it was the coin of our long and fruitful relationship.  She leaned in conspiratorially.

"John Travolta is in town. He's filming a movie at Gruene Hall."

My jaw dropped in surprise, my mind conjuring an image.  Over 100 years old, the wood of the floorboards at Gruene(Green) Hall creaked lyrically when you walked inside, and the screen door sometimes whacked you on the butt to hurry you inside the bar. A number of well-used tables sat waiting.  The chairs at the table were comfortable, and the distance between people was more intimate, allowing for some conversation.  Once the crowds arrived and the dancing commenced in the dusty darkness of the hall, the temperature climbed.  I never cared; everyone sweat until they were drenched, and we shouted at each other over the sound of whatever band was playing.  I loved that. 

"Jodi and a bunch of other people are going to head over there after school is out to see him," Mary continued.  "Are you going?"

 

I had to admit that the idea of John Travolta being in the vicinity was tempting.  I had never seen myself as a groupie, but this was a pretty big star to be so close.  I tried to picture Travolta wearing jeans, leaning on the bar at the Gruene Hall I knew, sipping a longneck; the white polyester suit from Saturday Night Fever seemed more suited to the man than jeans and boots.  

 

But what would I do when I got there?  My mind raced as I gave serious thought to standing in a crowd outside Gruene Hall for hours, hoping for a split-second glimpse of John Travolta.  Was I supposed to scream or faint if I saw him?  Should I wave my bra to get his attention?  Was I supposed to wait for him to speak to me, like royalty?  Were curtseys required?  Why didn't I pay more attention when reading Tiger Beat magazine as a teenager?

 

"Nah," I finally said.