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Even a Princess can have a tough night

One of my first memories of Rachael was from the 80s and before she became the matriarch of the beautiful Ayre family.  Rachael loved Halloween and I mean, she REALLY loved Halloween.

 I hit the Barleycorn early on this massively big holiday for San Francisco and I run into Rachael at the bar and, wow, her costume was just amazing.  She really was a beautiful princess, complete with a long flowing dark purple gown, sparkly purple heels, an honest to God, pointy purple princess hat with a light purple taffeta drape that went from the top of the point of her princess hat to swirl around her shoulders and waist and then to dramatically transform itself into a purple train contrasting perfectly and to borrow the Dude's line from "The Big Lewbowski," it really did tie the outfit together.

 We greeted and chatted briefly.  She and some  friends were off in search of Halloween adventures and I was headed in other directions.

 I returned to the Barleycorn before closing time as I wanted a nightcap and I always loved that "Set 'em up, Joe" aura of those wee wee small Frankie kinda hours where it was  always "one for my baby, and one more for road." 

 The place was pretty empty as I walked in and as I turned to face the bar, my eyes were filled with an amazing vision of Rachael, except the fairy dust had long been scattered and this princess was well past her sell by date.  What I saw was this...

 Rachael alone on one of those gorgeous dark red Barleycorn barstools. 
There was no one around her.
She was turned to the side gazing forlornly with soft focus towards the juke box with those "far away eyes" that Mick Jagger sang so well about but, tonite, Frankie, on the box, appeared to be singing directly to her.
A mostly consumed Irish Coffee in front of her.
Her legs were crossed and one of her purple sparkly pumps was dangling loosely from just her toes.
She had an elbow on the bar and her chin rested, cupped in her palm.
She had a half smoked cigarette dangling from her lips with about an inch of ash ready to fall.
Her pointedly purple princess hat was actually bent and now droopily hanging down, just like Mickey's was in "The Sorcerer's Apprentice."   
Her purple taffeta drape had long since given up the ghost and was no where to be seen.

 I was just so overwhelmed by the complete contrast of these two before and after images I had witnessed, that even today, more than 30 years since that one particular San Francisco Halloween, they both are so indeliably burnt into my minds eye, they're as fresh as if it was just yesterday.

 All I could think then was, "Even a Princess can have a tough night."   

 So please, Mr. Ayre, where ever you are,  
It's  quarter to three
There's no one in the place
'cept you and me.
So set em up Larry 
and we will have one for your baby and one more for the road.

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