When I regained my senses, I realized that I had nodded off. The leap from the dock must have drained all energy, causing my spirit to shut down. As strange as it was, I had been adrift. Forcing myself to become aware, my focus was out of kilt and the world about me uncertain.

I could hear the jovial tune of a man humming. The hum broke through to his voice singing lyrics. "I’m on the top of the world looking down on creation..." His voice then shifted into a cheerful whistle.

Wind shuttered me about and I realized we were dangling somehow. Was this man a lunatic on a child’ swing?

My vision was slow to restore and I noticed a sweet smell around me. A syrup-drink aroma like sarsaparilla. I was lifted as the song-man paused his tune.

The brown fluid dissolved as the man sighed in a refreshed outburst of "AH." He held me above his position, wiping sweat from his forehead. In an instant, my surroundings became clear and sharp. We were dangling somehow, midway up a tall skyscraper. Mammoth buildings were erected everywhere, reminding me of a manmade field of asparagus sprouting towards heaven.

I had no idea that the world had progressed to such a degree. Shiny glass reflected the man and his beverage in hand. There were tools attached to the metal bars that held the scaffold cart as one piece.

He placed me in a basket as he grabbed a squeegee and proceeded to clean the windows on the tower.

His song choice transformed, "I wish I had wings of an angel...over these tower walls I would fly." Again he seemed limited on his ability to sing lyrics as his tune fell into a whistle.

A woman sat in a brightly lit office as the man washed the exterior window. Her fingers were on a modern keyboard and orange letters appeared on the dark screen as she moved her fingertips. It surprised me that she didn’t gaze up as the man cleaned the windows from the outside, especially with so much danger involved.

Things had certainly changed since I was around. In my day it was the maid’ job to wash windows and she certainly didn’t need to go to such extremes to do the simple task.

"A viper." The man said to the woman inside. He tapped the window and the woman paused, her expression annoyed. After the window man waved, the woman returned her full attention to the screen without a hint of friendliness. Whatever became of basic manners, I wondered to myself.

As he worked, we descended from floor to floor until we reached the sidewalk.

A well dressed man in a vibrant gold suit approached. 'Building manager’ was legible on a tag pinned to his lapel. The window man was busy gathering his things and stiffened as the manager spoke.

"I see you’ve finished the south side of the building today Stan." The manager said in a no nonsense tone.

"Yeah. I’ll be back next Thursday to do the East side. Then I have you down for every three months, right?"

"Correct." The manager said.

"I’ll have my crew stop back later today to disassemble the cart."

"Okay." The manager replied as Stan lifted me within his basket and walked off to his service truck.

As we drove from the city, Stan became annoyed as the traffic halted to a stand still.

"Cars move!" He snapped. "You think I don’t have anything better to do than sit in a stinking traffic jam?"

The van crept forward and Stan fiddled with the radio dials. Soft instrumentals eventually calmed his mood.

Stan began to sing along with the music, but fell short of knowing more than a few lines of each song. "Delta Dawn what’s that flower you have on? Could it be a faded rose from days gone by?"

Traffic picked up once again as Stan hurried along the expressway. It wasn’t long before we pulled into a small suburban home with a lawn nothing short of perfect.

Stan pulled the basket from the van and hurried into the house. Immediately he took the bottle and rinsed it in the sink. He removed the scraps from his lunch and washed out the metallic box.

From the freezer he pulled a small square cardboard with the words Banquet printed on the front. After setting the oven, he hurried off. He appeared moments later, plugging a vacuum into a socket at the center of the hallway.

It surprised me the attention Stan paid to the tiniest of dust specks. In my opinion, the home was all ready spotless. Between his thoroughness with the floors, he swung back into the kitchen opening the box and sliding its contents into the oven.

He went right back to cleaning. Once the floors were finished, he pulled out his window gear taking great pain to squeegee windows that were all ready glistening. Next were the countertops in the kitchen, dusting the furniture and finally he disappeared with a toilet brush and a bucket of various cleaners.

A timer sounded as Stan appeared, clicking the oven off. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink, working the lather in a systematic way. He lifted me from the counter, dumping the clear rinse, then refilling it.

A moment later, he pulled the square from the oven. Fried chicken, a pea-carrot mix and mashed potatoes for one in neat tiny compartments. Stan placed the tin on the kitchen table pulling a fork, knife, and a linen napkin from the drawer.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, whispered throughout the quiet home. Stan ate his dinner in his solitary domain.

A few minutes into dinner, the doorbell rang. Stan appeared startled by this as he hurried to the front door.

"Larry, use the doorway around back. I just vacuumed the floor in here."

Footsteps sounded as Stan moved across the house to the side entrance. He opened the door and a burly man approached. His eyebrows were thick, extending straight across the gap above his nose.

"You mind taking your shoes off?" Stan barked, as the man stepped inside.

Without invitation, Larry took a place across the table from Stan.

"So how’s our neighborhood window washer today?" Larry asked eyeing Stan with mischief.

"Okay." Stan said gazing across his dinner. "Can I make you something to eat Larry?"

"Naw, the Misses is throwing some steaks on the grill tonight."

Stan nodded at his neighbor, his expression serious.

"So, what can I do for you this evening? I don’t believe I owe you anything from last year’s poker game."

Larry grinned sheepishly. "The misses is having her old maid sister in for a visit from Michigan. She should arrive sometime this evening. We were thinkin’ maybe you’d like to meet her, you know kind of get fixed up?"

Stan’s face transformed to several shades of embarrassment.

"I don’t know Larry. I’ve got a busy life as it is."

"We’re not asking you to get married or anything... just go out on a few dates while she’s here. I wouldn’t be asking, except there aren’t too many single men her age available."

"I don’t know......." Stan managed appearing out of his element.

"Well you think about it. We’re having a cook out tomorrow evening if you’re interested. If not, don’t feel obliged to come."

Larry stood, pausing at the door. "Is that moth balls I smell?"

Stan nodded.

Larry chuckled. "I didn’t think anyone still used those nasty old things."

Larry slid back into his shoes. "She’s not anything special to look at..." "I don’t know, you might like her."

Stan followed him to the door, closing it behind. In an immediate gesture, he stooped over and pulled a piece of lint from the floor, rushing to the waste basket to drop it in.

Stan’s demeanor transformed from content to agitated. He shoved his tin type meal across the table, then stormed to the refrigerator. Within the modern ice box everything was well organized and not a splotch of food anywhere to be seen.

Stan slammed the door in frustration, then feathered his fingers through his thinning hair. "What am I going to do?" He asked.

"Is there a problem?" I questioned from the bottle in the sink.

"Whoa...What the heck?" He managed gazing around.

"Over here, in the basin." I said. Stan in a slow movement pulled the bottle, dumping the water into the drain causing my ears to pop from the sudden change in pressure.

He gazed at the bottle, then reached for some glasses within a drawer. Stan held the bottle upward, clicking on the overhead lights. "Now what do we have here?" He asked, not quite certain of me.

"Hello." I said.

"Hi." He moved to the table and placed me across from his seat.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Well are you going to say something?" I asked.

"Like what? I’ve heard of this sort of thing happening to window washers before, you know hallucinations from staring at sun glare all day. I’ve just never heard of them speaking before."

"Maybe I’m for real."

"Oh come on now. Where’s the television camera?"

"Camera?" I asked.

"Sure. That television show, I thought it was canceled or is this for a special anniversary series?"

"I wouldn’t know much about television, that’s a bit after my time if you know what I mean."

Stan grinned as he stared at the bottle intently.

"You’re quite a looker if you don’t mind me saying so."

I shook my head, not certain what the man was talking about.

"Maybe you could help me. You see, the neighbor guy across the street, Larry.....well he’s trying to fix me up with his sister-in-law. I just...I don’t know."

"What don’t you know about?"

"I don’t have a lot of experience dating or anything. I never had much time for it. I had to get a job in high school to support my parents. Between work and taking care of them, I never had the time."

"Surely you’ve had a girl friend before."

"No. I’ve never had a single date before." Stan replied casting his gaze on his folded hands.

I remained quiet not certain what to say.

"Now Larry comes by and offers me a chance. I don’t know. It gets pretty lonesome here at times. It’s been this way for ten years now....it’s been that long since my father passed. I suppose I could use some company."

"You seem like a decent enough person. Surely many ladies would consider themselves lucky to go out with you."

"I don’t know much about dating anyone." Stan said.

"What’s to know? You’ll need a chaperone, someone to accompany you."

I said recalling the few dates that I was allowed out on.

"A chaperone?" Stan said.

"Sure. You wouldn’t want your date to believe your intentions dishonorable."

"I don’t know what rock you crawled out from, but I haven’t heard such a thing in this day and age. I mean, my grandparents might have had a chaperone when they courted but.."

"No? I would think any woman would find it endearing to have a man treat her in a respectful way." I replied. "Part of that is never going out unescorted."

"Okay, okay. You’re saying I should be old fashioned in my approach."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Why not?" He repeated.

Stan rose from the table and stood in front of the window overlooking the back yard. "I’m still uncertain about any of it."

"You know you get one gift from me. You want me to work some miracle and give you a bit of confidence?" Stan twisted around and I noticed a sly grin.

"A wish?"

"Yes, a wish."

Stan placed his fingers to his chin in contemplation.

"Okay. I want you to go out with me this evening. Just dinner and some dancing. I’ve never even danced before. Okay?"

"That’s your wish? I’m not certain it’s even possible. I mean, we’re from two separate dimensions."

Stan nodded. "See, I can’t even get someone who’s trapped in a lousy bottle of Root Beer to go out with me. I’ll be humiliated tomorrow evening in front of Larry and his sister-in-law. I should just forget the whole thing."

"Let’s make this clear, dinner and dancing?" I asked caving into his request.

"Yes, and simple conversation."

With that the bottle began to spin on it’s edge like a top. I could hear a rhythmic zzzz sound as it rotated at a tornado speed.

A moment later I was standing in Stan’s kitchen in full form. His jaw dropped as he gazed at me in disbelief.

"I don’t know about this." He said unsure of his wish.

"What’s not to know about?"

"I was supposed to water the lawn." Stan said, his eyes shifting to the backyard.

"Nonsense. You asked for a date, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, why don’t you find a nice suit and we shall go."

"A suit?"

"Yes. You must make an impression on your date. Slick back your hair, wash the dirt from beneath your nails....appear as a considerate gentleman."

He nodded, walking to the doorway.

"Make yourself at home in the mean time."

He hurried away and I strolled into his sitting room. Thick plastic covers were sewn on all the furniture. The room appeared as if no one had ever used it. The cushions on the furniture lacked wear and the chairs, showroom new.

I strolled to the shelf above a plastic fireplace. An old family portrait stood of a young man and his parents. The mother and father were not smiling, all three faces appeared haunted.

Several minutes later, Stan emerged in a plaid suit that fit him two sizes ago. Although Stan was not heavy, he had obviously toned up from his job of washing windows. It was as if someone stuffed a mattress into a pillowcase.

He stood about the hallway mirror attempting to loop a tie that did not match is outfit. "Oh what’s the use?"

Stan crumpled the tie and tried again.

"Allow me." I said, suddenly feeling an odd power within. I took Stan’s oversized hand within mine. The world shifted beneath my grasp and Stan whimpered with fright.

"It’s okay." I whispered, as the fibers of his clothes self loomed into a plain black suit. His shirt then began to weave into a mock turtleneck and in a moment he appeared with a presentable outfit. I reached up and flung the unnecessary tie onto the rug below.

"Wow!" He said eyeing himself in the mirror. "It’s black."

"Always in style with black." I said.

He smiled in a shy way. "Surely you can’t run around town looking like a bride in that thing. What will my neighbors think?"

"A bride?" I asked with surprise.

"Yes. That is a turn of the century bridal gown, right?"

It was odd, for the life of me I couldn’t remember anything about the dress that I was buried in. Couldn’t recall anything other than I never liked it.

"I believe you’re stuck with my wardrobe."

Stan stepped in and placed his hand into mine. He closed his eyes in concentration and a mask of humor appeared on his face. "Trust me on this."

A moment later, my outfit reconfigured. I was wearing a rather tight skirt and a matching blouse. Large jewelry appeared clipped to my ears and a matching gold necklace hung above my chest. Shoes with long, pointed heels appeared on my feet. There were stockings of thin material about my legs and it reminded me of the delicate web of a spider.

My long hair transformed into a configuration of layers. It stood above my head, tall and gaudy.

"This is how a woman dresses in the year 1984."

"No offense but I prefer the wardrobe of the early 1900’s, thank you."

He grinned as he studied me from head to toe.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

I nodded, unsure of walking out into the current world. I had occasional glimpses all along, but this was spending a few hours as a human again.

I was not within the refuge of the protective glass.

"What type of food do you like?" He asked as we walked out the front door.

"Food I like?" I said not recalling the exact taste of anything.

"I’ll tell you what, trust me, I know the perfect restaurant."

"Okay." I said as he escorted me to the service truck.

Larry was outside in his front yard trimming the lawn. A cigarette that was dangling from his lips, fell to the ground. "What the heck?" He said rushing over.

Larry’s eyes were overflowing with surprise. "Stan, you ol’ dog. You didn’t tell me you had a date tonight. Heck, I’ve never seen you go out on any date before. Who is this gorgeous woman?"

Larry stood there stupefied. "Larry, this is..." He paused, realizing I had never mentioned a name.

"Jeanne." I said. "Jeanne Wishgiven."

"Nice to meet you Miss Wishgiven. How did you meet ol’ Stan here?"

I grinned. "I’m in the bottle business. We met over a bottle of soda pop."

Larry laughed a full belly laugh. "Yeah, I’ll bet you did!"

Just then a rather plump woman opened the door across the street. "Lar? You comin’ to dinner or you expect the dinner to come to you?" Her voice was crass and abrasive, her eyes homed in on Stan and myself.

"Stan, you are planning to come to our party tomorrow night, right?"

He nodded his response.

"Good. We have to pick my sister up this evening. She’s lookin’ forward to meeting you.... have a good evening now." Larry’ wife shot a nasty look my way then slammed the door.

"All charm." Larry commented as he strolled home.

Stan smiled as he opened the door to the passenger side of the truck. After closing the door behind, he hurried to the drivers side and slid in.

He waited a minute before starting the engine. "Seat belt." He whispered.

"You should probably wear a seat belt." He managed again gazing at the thick strap.

"Oh." I whispered as Stan pulled a shoulder thing across himself and clicked it into place. "Better safe than sorry."

I mimicked his action forcing the metal tooth into its cradle. The mechanism clicked.

A moment later we were driving on the expressway. Cars and huge cargo trucks zoomed around as if the street were a free for all.

"Does everyone always drive like this?" I asked recalling the old days when cars only went turtle slow.

"If they want to get anywhere." Stan replied.

"Why is everyone in such a hurry?"

Stan grinned at me. "I don’t know."

Things fell silent between us.

"Have you ever driven a car before?" Stan asked.

"A car?" I questioned. Suddenly a quick recollection appeared in my mind.

I chuckled as the memory flooded my brain. "It was 1910 and my father bought me a Ford touring car."

"A model T?" Stan asked with interest.

"Yes."

He chuckled. "I guess cars have come a long way since that point."

"Indeed."

The restaurant was tucked in among 3 flat apartments on the south side of Chicago. We passed a baseball stadium along the way.

"My father used to bring me here when I was a boy. We’d go to the ball park for an afternoon game, then walk here for a delicious Italian meal. You do like Italian food, right?"

"Sure." I said not recalling the flavor of anything in particular.

"Good."

As we entered the small restaurant a waitress immediately escorted us to our seat. "Tonight’s special is noodles alfredo or chicken parmesan. Can I get you’s something from the bar?"

She gazed at me for my order.

"I’ll have a glass of water please." I said, as Stan ordered the same.

Over dinner, I learned how Stan’s father was an alcoholic and how his mother had been crippled by diabetes. "She lost her leg my senior year in high school and dad fell apart."

"Someone had to take care of them, and I did."

"That’s very commendable of you Stan." I managed.

"Thanks. For the most part it worked out okay. The house was nearly paid for by then. I just had to meet the mortgage for a few years. Then I apprenticed as a window washer."

"Does that ever scare you, you know being up so high?"

"Naw. It’s rather peaceful. I sometimes imagine I’m an eagle soaring above the city. I often wonder what the birds think about the steel forest man has created."

"The buildings are certainly amazing. You wouldn’t imagine the surprise when I realized where I landed today."

"You just arrived in the bottle today then?"

"Yes, that’s right."

"I thought maybe you had been in that root beer for a long time. Maybe started out at the bottling company or something."

"No. I move from bottle to bottle, that’s how I get around."

Just then a horrible voice penetrated my mind, I realized it was granny. "No specifics there Elizabeth. The less they know, the better."

I shook my head. "I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to say much about that."

"Okay." Stan said.

We ate our dinner then headed downtown to a club. Music with a loud, sure beat filled the air.

"Maybe this is a mistake." Stan managed.

"It'll be okay." I replied pulling him onto the dance floor.

"Just watch everyone else." I suggested taking a minute to observe the others as well.

In a few short minutes we were dancing like the rest. A smile fell across Stan’ lips and his eyes lit with happiness.

We danced every dance and I actually enjoyed myself. Stan proved to be competent on the floor, but once the music shifted to a slow tune, he transformed back into a bashful man.

I pulled his hand into mine showing him the traditional stance. Everyone about was hanging on one another and it did not appear at all proper. "Gaze into my eyes as we dance." I said recalling my father teaching me as a girl.

"That’s right." I said as Stan grinned following my lead of a traditional box step.

After an entire evening of dancing we drove back to his home. The house was just as we had left it, sterile.

"Can I get you a root beer or something?" Stan asked gazing at me.

"No, thank you." I said moving to the sitting room.

Stan appeared disturbed by my presence in this room.

"What is bothering you?" I asked.

"It was instilled by my mother that this room was to be kept perfect for a good impression. To this day I seldom come in here."

"How long has your mother been gone?" I asked him.

"She died five years before dad, so around fifteen years now."

"I think it’s time for you to live according to what you believe. The plastic on the furniture is not just wrapped around the cushions......it’s wrapped around your heart as well."

Stan flopped down into the chair and it appeared as if a heavy weight had finally been lifted.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"At first light tomorrow, I’m going to live. To heck with the daily chores and.. these horrible covers will be in Monday’s trash."

"Good for you Stan!"

I could feel myself begin to dissolve. Stan hurried off the chair and pulled me into his embrace. Thank you Jeanne Wishgiven, thank you for giving me a sense of direction."

As he placed his lips to mine, I faded away.

Along the tunnel was a metallic stopper which reminded me of a soda pop cap. My spirit paused, not being allowed further passage. "Now what?" I asked as everything around me shut down. It was as if my plug were pulled removing all power. Blackness, darkness, and nothingness filtered in preventing my escape. I was trapped.