Just returned from a nightmarish trip to Louisville, KY.

The reasons it was so horrible were myriad, but mostly it was because I had applied for a promotion that I stupidly thought I was in the serious running for....
The problem is that the "powers that be" apparently have no real intent of promoting based on merit, and therefore I did not get the promotion.

The worst part was that I was sent on this trip for a work related conference, and the position I had applied for was filled while I was literally in the air on the way to Kentucky; all of my co-workers who attended this conference with me found out through the grapevine before I did, and I was never officially told.

But, there was incredibly Fellini-esque moment in this trip that did shine through, and was somehow rewarding in its own way.

On the Tuesday of the conference, five of us piled into a car and went in search of a non-conference related meal. Since we were staying at a downtown hotel, and none of us had ever been to Indiana, we figured that we could do some exploring, that the quickest meal would be found across the Ohio River in New Albany, and pointed the car in that direction. But a few minutes of riding around on the other side of the bridge made us realize we would be better off back in Louisville, and the car on its own returned us to Kentucky.

We kept going south from the river on the interstate until we found ourselves in the vicinity of the Louisville airport. Preferring not to continue too far past there, we exited at the fairgrounds exit, and ventured into the neighborhoods there. Now mind you, none of us had any idea where we were, or where we were going, but somehow that all made it seem just right.

"Why don't we try V's?" asked the driver as we slid past a smallish red brick building on the side of the road. And before there was any real consensus in the group, the car had made a turn and we were in the parking lot.

The five of us unloaded from the car; V's looked totally deserted, but then again it WAS almost 2 PM...

It was a tiny restaurant that had definitely seen better days as far as architecture went. The place was old OLD 1950's style diner furniture. Red was the predominate color, and funky was the definitive adjective that came to mind.

But.... V himself was there to greet us. Sitting regally in a center booth directly in the front of the entrance itself.

And...he literally took up the entire booth. This was no small man; not even close. He was HUGE. Jabba the Hutt huge...if you get my drift. But friendly... He greeted us warmly, and a waiter appeared.

We were taken to our table. The waiter took our drink & appetizer orders.  Only after we were seated did we realize that cuddled up against Jabba was a rather diminutive woman with a lacquered hairdo that probably was an old wig she had pulled out of the ventilation system after a customer surrendered their hairpiece to it rather than admit they had leaned too close to it and the hairpiece had gotten sucked into it and was caught. Jabba's Consort had blueish long Lee Press-on nails that she kept clicking on the railing is some secret code that was obviously being relayed to the servant Ewok staff slaving in the kitchen. Whatever the code was, it was working...the Ewoks banged pots & pans but kept working without taking control of the place.

Then it got quiet again; after all, we were the only customers in the place. After a few minutes of idle conversation, one of our group got up to play the jukebox.

"It's not working". Jabba gestured with a sweep of his appendage that on a normal sized person would have been an arm. The would-be-jukie ducked back to the booth; we think he was afraid he was now on the Jabba "hit list".

We didn't have to wait too long; the food appeared. The pizza & other assorted sundry menu items we had ordered were Jabba sized ( it seems most of the food on the menu had that air...everything seemed to be capable of feeding large starving masses fleeing from the hinterlands). Maybe we had discovered the Kentucky cornucopia and were destined for greatness???

But just then...Fellini reached from the heavens himself and touched the five Mere Mortals who had ventured into the Kentucky afternoon, arrived to sit amongst the red furnishings, and dine in the presence of Jabba himself.

To the rear of the restaurant, in direct opposition to the entrance, and in the immediate vicinity of the defunct jukebox, a bright light suddenly appeared in the darkness floating about six feet in the air. There appeared a shadow behind the light... it was a tall young thinnish man in lederhosen, and wearing a very absurdly exagerated tall brown foam ten gallon cowboy hat, the likes of which one sees being worn by the faithful at sporting events.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY". This was bellowed out in a very thick eastern European accent by the lederhosen foam hat; you know...the one manning the camera ( yes; it was a camcorder).

The five Mere Mortals stopped chewing their late lunch in amazement. The Lederhosen Cowboy was a showstopper by himself, but the spectacle at the front door coming in off the street was even more astounding.

Clowns.

But not just any clowns.

First came Amazon Clown; she was TALL ( and wearing flats too!). She was barreling in and bellowing forth through the door singing a version of "Happy Birthday" in a very heavy accent that indicated that she had some degree of relationship to Lederhosen Cowboy. She wore a polka dotted clown top that flared wildly at her hips ( as if they weren't flared enough...). And there were the obligatory red clown shoes, along with a red nose hiding her real nose.

Right behind her, though, came the Sight of Sights.

For a lot of people, clowns are creatures that inhabit their nightmares when sleep finaly overtakes them. Amazon ones are frightening; there is no doubt.

Until this very afternoon however, it had never entered my mind that there could be a species of clown that could make a grown man's bowels clutch and convulse in total fear. And not just from all the grease in the Jabba Food that was being ingested to the tune of the Ewok-frightening clicking nails.

Yet here that species appeared in the door in all of its full horror... Pregnant Clown in  Skin Tight Sweat Pant Shorts. In white face no less. And bare un-panty hose clothed legs...with Doc Martens on.

" If she goes into labor, would it be like one of those little clown cars? Would clown baby after clown baby keep popping out of her?" whispered the driver of the Mere Mortals. A swift kick under the table aimed at the driver's ankle by me failed to connect; soft drink spewed from four of the five Mere Mortals nostrils.

In the kitchen, a loud clamor of pots & pans confirmed the Ewoks had somehow sensed the arrival of the Clown Cadre, and all that it implied. They were in absolute terror!

"How DARE they risk everyone's lives by laughing in the presence of Jabba & the Consort?" I thought. "Don't they realize how dangerous this is? "

I sensed the need to flee to the safety of the car; maybe we could all outrun the clowns before Jabba could bellow his command to the Clowns to terminate our existence? I doubted we'd make it; the Consort would click out her nail code to the Ewoks who would storm from the kitchen to filet us for the next customers' meals.

"Would you like anything else?" I hadn't noticed the waiter appear at my side; the Clowns were weaving their birthday spell on all around. Their wailing lilt was mind numbing; Jabba was rumbling jellylike with laughter. Gifts had been placed in his gigantic mitts, and he was shredding the gift wrapping while goading the Clowns to keep singing and dancing under the glare of the Lederhosen Cowboy's camcorder.

"Check...please". I croaked it out. The Consort snapped her head in the direction of the Mortals. The nail clicking code to the Ewoks paused. The atmosphere emanating from the kitchen became palpably tense.

My request to the waiter sounded like a plea, and was not very convincing. Even the Driver became aware of the impending deathblow the Consort was capable of delivering.

The Waiter tensed; he slid a glance towards the Consort. She smiled malevolently, and began to click a slow dirgelike staccato. The Ewoks grew silent.

"Pay now". He had leaned over and softly stated it. "It's all she wishes for you to do. Credit or cash?"

The Mortals hastily searched for enough coinage to cover the bill. In the background the nails clicked out their deadly code.

"Thank you. Please come again." The Waiter grinned and leaned forward again. "You have paid. Exit now". This he whispered.

As if to accentuate the seriousness of his words, the clicking stopped.

Jabba exhaled.

The Mere Mortals slowly moved towards the door; they could see the vehicle that would take them back to reality. It beckoned.

As they reached the door, the clicking of the Consort started again . Like a drum beat, it began a roll, and began to go faster. And faster.  The Ewoks began murmuring. The Clowns watched the Mortals; the Pregnant Clown smiled.

She waved. "Have a nice day", she said. The Mortals were assailed with the terrible image of the smile and the memory of her words. The mental scarring would last a lifetime.

The car full of Mortals fled.