I was sitting at a table in a corner of a night club drinking orange juice. Several attractive women, includingmy mother, were with me. I noticed Missi Williams was a waitress there and was waiting on a nearby table. Missy didn't come to our table because no one wanted anything. But even though we weren't ordering anything I figured we weren't being asked to leave because usually the management of a bar like this likes to have attractive women stay around.
I had my own record player here with me. It had a system so that when one record would finish another record would fall down to be played. But the record player would also flip over so that the needle was for a few seconds playing on the under side of the record. It was quite an intricate set-up. When one record finished I pointed it out to my mother so she could see how it operated when a new record came on.
Finally, we all got up, walked into the next room and stayed there for a while. After a while I returned alone, sat back down where I had been and continued drinking from my glass of orange juice. A quarter had been left lying on the table which no one had bothered while I had been gone.
At the next table were some people (probably in their early 20s). I saw a fellow I had once know at Baylor Law School and a woman I had once know inPortsmouth. Missi sat down at that table for a while. Then she came over and spoke to me. She was very friendly and I enjoyed talking with her. She seemed glad we were alone so she could have a chance to talk with me. She said she was a little depressed and the night before had gone home and put on a record called "Dead Man." She said it had been strangely moving, almost transporting, to listen to it.
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