I’d been invited to play bass in a new club up north. I wasn’t really qualified for that particular gig. Didn’t matter; before I called back to talk to the owner about it he’d had found someone else. We chatted a bit, and I drove up anyway just to see the place.

The band was a 3-piece doing lots of classic rock, country and country-rock covers. During a break, I mentioned to the apparent leader of the band that if they did any Creedence, it’d be fun to sit in on bass if his bass player didn’t mind.

After their break, the bass player was holding the lead guitar and asked if I wanted to play bass. I love playing Creedence; there’s not a CCR bass line I can’t play or at least fake well.

I don’t even remember what song title he yelled at me, but it sure wasn’t Creedence. I looked at his hands on the guitar and made a stab at a key, but didn’t get there fast enough. He stopped abruptly, glared at me and asked if I knew the song. I said ‘no’ and he blurted out another song which I’d just started learning . . . but hadn’t learned yet. Thirty seconds in, he was glaring again. He asked in cheerful tones, “What songs do you know?” I mentioned something about Creedence, but by now I was far too flustered to speak intelligibly. The drummer threw his drumsticks across the room, yelled “Let me know when you decide to play something!” and was out the front door before the sticks stopped rattling on the floor. The pleasant gent with the guitar walked over and motioned impatiently for the bass; as I unslung it I tried to explain that I’d simply mentioned to the other chap that if they played some Creedence, I’d love to join in. He’d already moved on; never even made eye contact.

As I plowed through the front door for my car, the owner was chatting with the master of illusion from the band to whom I’d spoken originally. The owner asked what was up, and I suspect I was less than perky when I mentioned that somehow, the band didn’t seem to have gotten my message very clearly. They both stared at me. After the extended silence became awkward, I got in my car and went home.

. . . the illusion that it has taken place . . .