From: ps70awg@rs4.tcs.tulane.edu (Mel Rupinski) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: Roundtable Story 6 (Pt. 1) Date: 2 Feb 1994 07:09:20 GMT Organization: Tulane University, New Orleans, LA Message-Id: <2injj0$cji@news.cs.tulane.edu> Quantum Leap Roundtable, part 6: "Bourbon Street Bystander" by: Mel Rupinski Copyright 1994 (Leapin by Dotty Klein, Copyright 1993) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sam leaped... ...into a mob. Or so it seemed to him at first. There were people pressed all around him, some perched on others' shoulders, all screaming at the top of their lungs. The crowd surged forward, and something flew towards Sam's face. He reached to block it, and caught a handful of plastic beads, in color combinations only Al would appreciate. Dangling from the beads was a pressed plastic medallion. As the crowd jostled him, he read the medallion's lettering: "Krewe of Bacchus'. And someone spilled a beer down his back. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Oh boy," Sam muttered in disgust as the warm liquid seeped its way down, mercifully stopping before it reached the seat of his pants. Trying to clear his head and assess the situation, he looked around -- just in time to see a large group of men in brightly colored costumes throwing things off a giant alligator. "Alligator?" he thought out loud -- it must have been over a hundred feet long. "Yeah," came a voice from behind him, "that's Bacchugator...you get anything good?" On a hunch, Sam held up the purple beads in his hand. "Bacchus beads, too bad. I've got a box of them back at my place. By the way, sorry 'bout the beer, you know how things get when everyone starts pushing." "Yeah, no problem," Sam replied. Truth was, he was a little annoyed by the whole thing. Getting a beer down the back was never fun -- but just after a leap... ...*Wait a minute, I've been here before,* he thought, *now if I could only remember when!* Deciding to get to the bottom of the situation, he yelled for Al, but the observer was no where to be found. He looked around again, and saw a high school marching band coming down the street towards where he was standing. The crowd responded and started to cheer loudly. All Sam could do was cup his hands over his ears and try to escape the pushing and shoving of the crowd, and the cacophony of sounds bombarding his ears. As the crowd shuffled, he saw an opening and went for broke...only to feel a hand grab his arm and pull him to the side. "Where are you going, man? I thought I lost you for minute there!" Sam turned and looked at the person holding his arm -- a young man, about 21 Sam estimated, and about the same height was looking back at him. "I needed to take a break." "Not now you don't, there's another float coming. After that, a bunch of us are gonna walk a little further down St. Charles. I think were a little to close to where the parade gathered to get any good throws. I've got this friend that lives on Washington, and that should be far enough along to get some decent beads -- you can get your breather then. Now, take this and keep an eye on me when the float gets here!" With that, Sam watched as an open can of beer was thrust into his hand. He took a look at it...light beer. *Thank God! If ever there was a time I needed a beer, this is it!* he thought to himself as he took a swig and followed his apparent friend back into the jungle of people. The beer must have settled his nerves a little bit as he actually began to enjoy the remains of the band going by. He watched the marchers step in rhythm until the the loud clatter of the tractor caught his attention. The sign on it read "The President's Rose Garden." He looked further down toward the float itself, and gave a little chuckle at the obvious parody. "C'mon, we guys really have to work the women on these floats if we expect to get anything good..." his companion said as he ran off to the float screaming "I love you!" to every female rider. Sam, definitely not wanting to get lost in this mob, quickly followed suit, albeit not yelling quite so loud. He looked up, wondering what would be hurled at him this time, only to spot an all too familiar face dancing among the papier mache flowers. "Alllllllllll!" Sam screamed at the the top of his lungs, trying to get the observer's attention over the roar of the crowd. "You get down here right now!" "How in the world do you know anyone on the float?" asked his 'friend' in disbelief. "What?" But before the response came the sky was filled with little round disks. "Doubloons!!" someone screamed as the hit the ground. In less than a second the whole crowd, or so it seemed, descended on Sam's spot, gathering as many of the coins as they could find. Sam managed to break free, and tryed again to get Al's attention. Al just looked back, waved, continued dancing for a few moments, then disappeared. *Oh great, I'm stuck here and he's having the time of his life* Since everyone seemed to have such a great interest in the coins, Sam decided to check one out. He spied one that nobody had picked up, and reached for it...when a small pair of feet leaped out of nowhere and landed on it. "Mine!" said a young girl as she picked it up and ran back to her mother. Sam followed the girl with his eyes, somewhat surprised at her enthusiasm, when Al finally decided to pop in. He was wearing a gold suit, green shirt and purple tie. "Where have you been?" asked Sam -- a little perturbed. "I saw this gorgeous woman from the float, Sam. You wouldn't believe the set of..." "Al" "...beads she was displaying. They were this big," continued Al, cupping his hands. "Al! I don't want to hear about your escapades! Just tell me what I'm doing here." Al then punched a few keys on the handlink...*hiccup* *squeak* "Let's see, its Sunday, February 13th, and you've leapt to New Orleans during Mardi Gras, you lucky dog! Well, it's not actually Mardi Gras until Tuesday, but as you can see, carnival is well under way!" "That's all very nice Al, but what I am here to do?" "Your name is Steven Austin...hey! just like the Six Million Dollar Man!...and you are a senior at the University of Oklahoma..." *Squaawwl* SMACK! "...and you came to New Orleans to visit your friend, Jason Burke -- a first year law student at Tulane, for the Mardi Gras. That's all Ziggy has right now." "That's all!?" "For now. Gooshie's been trying to run some new programs on her, but she's resisting it all the way. She told him that she didn't want his grubby little hands on her CPU." "Well I think you had better try to talk some sense into her!" "I'll give it a go, but you know how Ziggy gets. In the meantime, I'd live it up if I were you. This is the living embodiment of wine, women, and song! Sometimes I hate being a hologram!" "I'd just as soon do what I have to do and get out of here...you know this isn't my idea of fun." "Too bad!" The imaging chamber door opened, and Al stepped through. "What isn't your idea of fun, amigo?" Sam turned and saw that Jason had returned from his latest bead quest, this time with two more people. Sam thought fast, "Oh, being left here while you go off seeking plastic treasure." "Sorry, I saw Billy and John across the street, and thought they'd want to head down to Washington with us. They tell me there's a big blowout down there. Then you'll see how valuable these 'treasures' are...let's go!" The quartet made there way through the onlookers to the sidewalk, and headed down St. Charles Avenue towards Washington. Sam was glad to get some fresh air, not to mention a little relief from the constant pushing of the crowd, although they did have to traverse the minefield of happy, not to mention drunk, revelers. *What an immature and irresponsible display,* he thought while watching people vie for the best position to catch whatever was thrown from the floats. They finally arrived at the intersection of St Charles and Washington, only to find a collection of people twice the size of where they left. Ironically, they had actually made better time than the parade itself -- Bacchugator was again making it way towards Sam, but with more "goodies" emerging from within. "Looks like we did pick a better spot," exclaimed John. "Yeah, us and half of New Orleans," replied Billy. "Alright, you guys stay here -- I'm gonna look for Ed," directed Jason. "Ed?" "He's that friend I told you about before, Steve. You hang out here with those two, and I'll let you know when I find him -- fair enough?" "Fair en--" before Sam could finish, the crowd was rushing to the float, with him in the middle. *Not again,* he thought, trying to make some room for himself. He finally righted himself, and noticed that this time the sky was completely filled with plastic beads, cups, frisbees, doubloons, women's underwear, *women's underwear?*, and just about everything else imaginable -- and the crowd was simply eating it up. Even Sam got in the act by catching several throws...it was inevitable if you were standing anywhere near the parade route. The float pressed on to continue its journey, and the onlookers retracted a bit to survey their loot. John was the first to make it back to where Sam was standing, and he had a two-foot grin on his face. "You look like the cat that just ate canary!" said Sam. "Take a gander at these beauties," replied John as he lifted a set of enormous purple, green, and gold beads. "You don't score like this everyday!" "Very nice," replied Sam, still not quite sure why everyone was so excited about worthless beads. "By the way, what's with all this purple, green, and gold?" "They're the official colors of Mardi Gras, man! Purple means justice, green is faith, and gold is power." "I see..." Al's outfit made a little more sense now. "Man, what did you have to do to get those, you slut?!" exclaimed Billy, as he joined Sam and John. "I'll never tell!" replied John, grinning again. Without warning, a very attractive brunette walked up to the group, eying John's beads the whole way. John looked at her and shook his head no. "I want to hold on to these for a little while," he explained. The woman then turned in Sam's direction. "I like those beads," she said walking towards him coyly. Before Sam could get in a word, she grabbed him and kissed him hard on the lips. After what seemed like a long time, she released, and took a pair of beads from around Sam's neck. "Maybe I'll see you later," she said while walking away as suddenly as she came. Sam was no longer unsure about the value of plastic beads during Mardi Gras. "Alright Steve!" shouted John and Billy in unison. "Alright what?" asked Jason, who had finally returned, bringing Ed with him. "Your friend here is no longer a virgin!" explained Billy. "Yeah, he just 'sold' his first set of beads," added John. "Just a matter of time, my friend! Anyway, Ed and some other people have a cooler across the street. I figure we should go over with them!" "Good idea, let's go," and the group headed to their new destination. The rest of the parade was pretty much more of the same: floats, costumes, throws, marching bands, and consumption of beer -- quite an energetic spectacle. By the time the parade was over, Sam was weighted down with about five pounds of beads around his neck. The street sweepers and police cars then came noisily down St. Charles, signalling that the post-parade festivities were about to begin, and someone screamed, "On to Mike's." As the group, which numbered about twelve made their way back across St. Charles to Mike's apartment, Sam could see the Imaging Chamber door and Al stepped through, still wearing his Mardi Gras outfit. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket, lit it, and took a long drag. "What's up, Sammy boy?" "Looks like I'm going to a party." "Best of the year," replied a voice from Sam's group. "You're in luck, Sam. Mardi Gras parties are the absolute best!" replied Al, disregarding the other comment. "I remember this time..." "You've been to Mardi Gras? Why am I not surprised?" "It was only once, right before the Cuban Missile Crisis. We were held over in Pascagoula, that's in Mississippi, and a few of the guys thought it would be fun to drive down to New Orleans. Let me tell you, we had a blast!" "Wait a minute, was that just after..." "Yeah, the trial...and Lisa. I thought the trip would help me get over the whole ordeal." "Did it?" "For a little while, but you don't get over a thing like that so easily. I don't think I'm still quite over it. Oh, looks like you're about to go in. I'll meet you up there...and it might be a good time for you to visit the..." "Men's room, I know." Sam mentally rejoined his companions. Luckily, no one realized he was 'absent', as the whole group was chatting among themselves. They approached the converted apartment house and went to the second floor. The door was open, and Sam could see a massive room, emptied of all its usual contents, but full of people. There were parade spoils strewn all over the place. The music was load, and everyone was dancing...including Al. "Laissez les bon temps roulez, Sammy!" he exclaimed Sam looked over to Jason and said, "I think I need the men's room" "Alright, it's just around the corner." Sam left for the facilities, and motioned Al to follow. But, when he got to the hallway, he found a line of about fifteen people. "This won't work," he whispered to Al. "Follow me." Sam did an about face and passed Jason again, "On second thought I need some air." "There's a balcony right outside the window." "Thanks." Sam then made his way to the balcony. When he got outside he noticed that it was empty, except for two people 'making out' in the corner. *Won't have to worry about them,* he thought. Al appeared behind him, still savoring his cigar. "What a party, Sam -- the women, if only they could see me!" "Al! has Ziggy come up with why I'm here yet? I don't think I can take much more of this." "I think Gooshie and I have calmed her down a bit. She's supposed to have the information any time now, so I thought I'd pop in to see what was going on. And you took some frat parties pretty well." "That's different!" "Not really, just think of Mardi Gras as a sort of frat party with souvenirs, but here about a million people are invited!" "Wonderful. You know, Al, I've been having the weirdest feeling that I've been here before, but I can't pull it out of this swiss-cheesed memory." "I think I can safely you've never been to Mardi Gras before. You were in New Orleans once, but not under the best of circumstances." "I don't remember." "It's probably best that you don't." Just then a sort of double whistle came from Al's pocket. "Looks like Ziggy's got the information." Al took another drag on his cigar, pulled out the handlink, and hit a few buttons. "Oh no!" "What?" "According to Ziggy, you...I mean Steve...has a one night stand with some woman, a stranger, and catches the HIV virus. Ziggy says that there's a 74.3 percent chance that you are here to prevent that from happening." Sam face dropped when he heard Steve's original history. But the gloom turned to pensiveness, and he looked back at Al. "Wait a minute, if that's what I'm here to do, then I shouldn't be here now, right? I mean, as soon as I leaped in, there was no chance that I would sleep with the woman, so Steve would never have contracted HIV, so I should've leaped out, right?" "I don't know Sam, Ziggy says that's what you're here to do, apparently you've got to see it through." He hit a few more keys on the handlink *Squawwl**squaaaawl** SMACK! "Looks like she's acting up again...I'm gonna go back in and see if I can get some more information for you." Al then took one more drag, and hit one final key -- the Imaging Chamber door reopened. "I'll be back as soon as I can." As the door closed, Sam saw the woman from the parade walking towards him. She came out to the balcony, and sat on the railing next to him. "Hi, remember me?" she said suggestively... ----- To Be Continued -- |Mel Rupinski | If you think | |Department of Psychology | of anything clever | |Tulane University | to put here | |ps70awg@mailhost.tcs.tulane.edu | please let me know! | From: ps70awg@rs4.tcs.tulane.edu (Mel Rupinski) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: Roundtable Story #6 Pt2 (text) Date: 10 Feb 1994 04:24:26 GMT Organization: Tulane University, New Orleans, LA Message-Id: <2jcctq$su8@news.cs.tulane.edu> "It's hard to forget something like that." "Then I suppose it's safe to say that this is your first Mardi Gras." "Is it that obvious?" "Well, it's just that people who've been here before are accustomed to these little 'transactions'." "I don't think I could ever really get used to that." "Oh it's not that bad. I mean...you're you for 50 weeks a year, but for a couple of weeks, when carnival is full blown, you get to step outside yourself...do things you wouldn't normally do. Besides, it's all in good fun." "I guess, but that's not exactly my kind of fun." No sooner did Sam finish speaking when the Imaging Chamber door opened, and Al stepped through. "Well, it looks like Ziggy is cooperating, and we should have all the relevant information shortly. Hey, who is this?" Sam looked over towards the woman, "I just realized, I don't know your name." "I'm Sharon Kirby," she replied with a smile. "Got it Sam," Al interrupted while pressing a few buttons on the handlink. Meanwhile, Sam returned the introduction "I'm Steven... Austin." "Just like the guy on..." "The television show, I know," said Sam, finishing the thought. "Sam, we need to talk. Now!" exclaimed Al upon reading the information coming through on the handlink. Sam paused for a moment, somewhat startled by the tone of the observer's voice. "I'll be right back, I have to use the bath..." Sam hesitated. "I think I'll get a beer," he corrected himself after remembering the line for the 'facilities'. He then separated himself from the railing on which he had been leaning on, and walked through the open window and into the kitchen. In the kitchen, he saw four kegs, two of which were labelled "New Orleans Brew House". "You're in luck Sam -- microbrewery beer is the best!" exclaimed Al as he popped in. "I'll think I'll stick with regular old watered-down light beer," replied Sam. "So what did Ziggy come up with?" "I had her cross-reference Sharon's name with the other information she was pulling up on Steve. In the original history, they both got really blitzed and, well, make a connection, if you know what I mean. According to Steve's medical history, he said that this was the only time he didn't use some sort of protection, poor kid." "It's hard to believe that you can make one mistake, and pay for it..." "...with your life. It says here that AIDS set in five years later, and he died shortly after. So Sam, whatever you do, DO NOT leave this party with her!" "Don't worry Al, you can be sure I won't," Sam said, reassuring Al. His beer filled, he left the kitchen and returned to the balcony. Sharon smiled, "I know this may be a little forward, but why don't we get out of here and go back to my place. We can have our own private party." Sam smiled back, "The offer is tempting, but I'm here with some friends, and I really shouldn't leave them. Besides, I don't know my way around this city -- I'd probably never find them again." "That's alright," she replied, "I've been here for a while, I can get you anywhere you need to go." Sam sighed inwardly as it wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. He glanced at Al, who had followed him from the kitchen, but he was busy punching something into the handlink. He turned back to Sharon, "The truth of the matter is, there is someone back home." He had just thought of that on the spot, but somehow it felt true to him. *Tamlyn?* he thought. But it was no use -- the name popped into his head, but it seemed like a dream; he couldn't remember who was at home waiting for him...if anybody. "Where's home?" she asked. "Indiana." Sam answered. At least he was sure of that. "Well, I won't tell if you won't." "I'm sorry, but I just can't. I thought I might, but I just can't be unfaithful." "A man with morals...you know you're part of a dying breed, especially here. I can respect that," Said Sharon, perhaps a little disappointed. Sam smiled again at her, "But thank you for the offer." "I do what I can. Anyway, I'm still gonna move on. It was...interesting meeting you," Sharon added as she turned to leave the balcony. "It was nice meeting you, too." As Sharon was about to duck under the window, Al looked up from the handlink, "Sam! You've got to stop her," he said with a sense of urgency. "Wait!" exclaimed Sam as she had reached the inside of the house. Sharon stopped, a little startled, and started to go back to the balcony. "What's the matter Al," whispered Sam, before she got too close. "Ziggy says that she doesn't find out that she's infected for another seven months. She unknowingly passes it on to three other people." Sam realized that he had to do something, but how do you tell someone they have HIV...especially someone you just met. Besides, why would she believe him? He thought deeply for the few moments he had before she made her way to where he was. "Change your mind?" "Uh, no. But I was a little worried." "Worried? About what?" "I really don't want to overstep my bounds, and I don't want to sound like I'm preaching, but, uh..." "Come on, spit it out" "You know, with all the sexual activity going on around here..." "Oh uh, here it comes. Look, I'm not that king of person!" she said, a little more than annoyed." "I wasn't trying to imply that you were," Sam said, feeling like he was losing control of the situation. "I just meant hat you can never tell exactly who is a carrier. Just maybe get a test done after this is over. That way at least you'd know for sure." "I can't believe how much of a bastard you are!" She the got up and stormed off the balcony. "Sharon!" called Sam as he got up to go after her. "Let her go Sam," Al interrupted. "What do you mean?! I can't let her go like that!" Sam was quite surprised at Al's statement. "Yes you can," explained the observer, "according to Ziggy, you DID get through to her. I guess after she sobers up she realized that your advice was good. She gets tested for HIV on Wednesday." "What happens to her?" "She's still alive, and she doesn't infect anyone else, that's good. It says here that she devotes her life to increasing AIDS awareness, and helps change a lot of people's minds. She does a lot of good, Sam." "That's great, what about Steve?" "Let's see...first of all, he never gets the HIV virus...he finishes law school and becomes a public defender. Nothing too fancy, but really helps people who can't afford a private attorney." Al the looked up from the handlink and over to Sam. "You should be proud, kid. Now get ready to leap." A few seconds passed. "Yessir, any minute now...any time," continued Al. Still nothing. "Why haven't I leaped, Al?" queried Sam, very confused. "I don't know. I'm gonna go back and see what in the world is going on. Maybe Ziggy has a theory. I'll see you in a little while." The Imaging Chamber door closed, and Sam was once again alone on the balcony. He looked at his beer, swirled it around in his cup (which said 'Endymion' on one side, and 'Kenny Rogers -- 1992 on the other), and took a sip. No sooner had he swallowed when Jason came running through the open window and onto the balcony. "You are one hard person to keep track of," he said, grabbing Sam's arm. "C'mon, we're all going down to the Quarter." "I don't think that's such a good idea." "Don't be such a wuss. You can't come to the Mardi Gras and not go to the Quarter! That's where all the action is!" Jason then pulled Sam through the window and out of the house. As they got back on St. Charles Ave., Sam noticed that there were still a good deal of people milling about; coming from and going to parties, walking downtown, and performing various other assorted activities. After about 3 miles of walking, the group stopped at Canal St., right on the threshold of the French Quarter. Someone suggested that they go down to Decatur, then over to Bourbon, to avoid as much of the crowd as possible. So, they headed forth, stopping once for more alcohol. That made Sam uneasy, as everyone was already pretty drunk. He just hoped that one of those fights that inevitably happen when a bunch of drunk people get together would occur that night. After reaching Decatur and walking for a few blocks, the group made a left on St. Peter, and headed for "Rue Bourbon". Nothing Sam had ever seen before prepared him for this spectacle. For as far as he could see in both directions there were wall-to-wall people on both sides of the street, men flashing women for beads (and vice-versa), people throwing things to the crowd from various balconies, and the crowd was returning the favor. There was also the occasional "Lucky Dog" vendor, and in the middle of it all was a large neon cross that said "Jesus Saves", with a group of people underneath it handing literature out to the crowd. "This is what it's all about!" exclaimed John as he headed into the street. Billy, Jason, Sam, and some others followed, but in no time they were all separated -- it was just the first four. After half an hour of jostling through the crowd, watching people on balconies, and various other sordid activities, Jason called out "Michelle!" "What's going on?" queried Sam. ""I just saw someone I know. Wait here, she's making her way over." It took her about five to weave her way through the people, and when she finally made it, Jason introduced everybody, "This is Michelle Greene, one of my classmates from the law school." "Hi; nice to meet you; hey!" replied Billy, Sam and John in unison. Jason turned to Michelle, "How's it going?" "Not so great," she answered, "I got lost from my friends." "Not so hard to do, huh? If you want, you can hang out with us until you find them." "That would be great." "Any objections?" Jason asked the group. They all shook their heads no, and the five of them were off, back into the thick of things. After another hour, Billy spoke up, "I don't know about y'all, but I need a break." "That sounds like a good idea," added John. Everyone else agreed, and they headed for a cross street to find a bar that was out of the way so they could all sit down for a while. As the approached the sidewalk on Bourbon, Michelle jumped. "Hey!" she yelled. "What's the matter?" asked Jason. "That guy just goosed me. "This may sound cruel, but you just have to ignore them. They're a bunch of nuts who get their jollies by feeling people up in crowds. He'll get bored and move on," offered John. Unfortunately, this particular one was persistent, and he goosed Michelle two more times. Jason, who was fuming mad, and feeling a little too macho, said softly to the group, "hold on, I'm gonna put an end to this." Before anyone could object, Jason had turned around and grabbed the man's shirt. "Why don't you get your ass out of here and find someone else to bother, you freakin' pervert!" he screamed at the man; which brought a lot of attention to the two. Without warning, the man pulled out a gun and held it up to Jason's head. "Who are you calling a pervert, you little prick?" Jason just stood there trembling, while the man laughed at him. Sam, who didn't have time to think, lunged for the gun. Luckily, it wasn't cocked, and Sam and the man wrestled for the gun. Finally Sam was able to wrench it free, and he held it up to the man, while John and Billy held him. As Sam tried to regain his composure, he looked to see the Imaging Chamber door opened, and Al walked through looking at the handlink. "Sam, Ziggy didn't dig deep enough at first. It looks like you're also here to..." he paused as he looked up and saw Sam holding the gun. "I think I've already figured it out, " said Sam, finally breathing normally. "So you have, so you have. Bye, Sammy." Sam saw the all-too-familiar blue light begin to envelope him, and heard that that characteristic tinkling sound as the white arcs of electricity surrounded him...and he leaped. As the Quantum energy dissipated, Sam found himself walking down an unfamiliar street. *What's this weight on my shoulder?* he thought as he looked over to find a large bag hanging at his hip. He then noticed the blue uniform and letters in his hand..."I'm a mailman?" Then he heard it. It was a low rumbling at first, now getting louder. Sam walked cautiously on -- until the biggest, meanest, ugliest dog he had ever seen turned the corner. "Nice doggy...nice doggy," he said trying to calm the monster. But it was no good -- it started in Sam's direction, and with a loud "Oh Boyyyyyyy!" Sam turned and ran, leaving a trail of letters behind... -- |Mel Rupinski | If you think | |Department of Psychology | of anything clever | |Tulane University | to put here | |ps70awg@mailhost.tcs.tulane.edu | please let me know! |