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I've been an amateur inventor, okay tinkerer, most of my life. At twelve I invented a machine that would pick up the droppings from our German Shepherd in our fenced backyard. Worked great but emptying it was, well, less than pleasant. Later I invented a self-cleaning telephone booth. Should have been a big seller but someone invented cell phones. When's the last time you saw a phone booth?
Now, years after earning a degree in mechanical engineering and a second in electrical engineering, I was trying again. I've had a regular nine to five job for 40 years to pay the bills, but evenings and weekends I'm in my workshop. I've invented a number of things, including a beer bottle re-capper for when you don't finish the entire bottle, automatic automobile sun visors that sense the sunlight and lower when needed, and a condom that unrolls itself over your, well, manhood.
Lately I've been fixated on inventing a transporter, like on that old space trek tv show. Or that movie where a guy gets turned into a fly. I'm making progress. I've sent inanimate objects including a coffee mug, pair of sunglasses, pen and others to, well, somewhere. I have no idea where they went and I haven't been able to bring them back yet.
Tonight, after work, I went into my workshop and all the objects were back! I don't know how, or when, since they weren't here last night and I didn't do anything to bring them back. But here they were. It was time to step up my experiments. Starting small I went out to the porch and snagged a moth attracted to the light. Putting it into my machine I hit the "Go" button and it vanished. Now to wait.
Two days later, Saturday, I rushed down to my workshop and the moth was back! Elation turned to despair as I realized it was also dead. Was it because of my machine, or old age? I had no way to know and knew no-one who performed autopsies on moths. I'd have to try again.
This time I chose a gecko. I sent it off and two days later it came back, not well but still alive. I poured over all my notes, triple checked my settings, and re-examined all my theories. I made some changes which I can't tell you about because my patent hasn't yet been approved, but I can say they worked. When I tried again with a squirrel it came back two days later seemingly in the best of health. When I set him loose he ran scurrying around, looking for acorns and the like. Pretty normal squirrel behavior.
It was time for a human test. At sixty-two, single, and celibate for several years I was the perfect candidate. With no family to miss me if the worst happened no one would care. I threw together a timer mechanism and set it for one minute, then got into my machine. It seemed like hours but eventually the timer hit zero and the machine activated.
A second later I found myself in an unfamiliar place. I took note of the exact spot - a specific seat in what appeared to be the bus station of some as yet unidentified city. I didn't know if it mattered but thought it prudent to pay attention. Feeling the need to pee I looked around until I spotted the sign for restrooms and headed that direction.
After using the urinal I turned to the sink, to wash my hands as Mom had taught me. Once I finished soaping and rinsing, I looked up. The face in the mirror wasn't my sixty year old, average looking man. Instead a rather handsome twenty-something looked back at me. Thinking this was some kind of trick I made funny faces, and the image mirrored them.
I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and pulled out a flip style I knew hadn't been available for a couple of decades. Luckily it did have a camera, although I didn't think the pixel count would be very high. I figured out how it worked and took a selfie, causing raised eyebrows on the guy at the next sink. I switched to the photo library and sure enough, the selfie I'd just taken matched the guy in the mirror.
With no idea what was going on I left the bus station and discovered it was dinner time here, wherever that was. Or is it is? Grammar was never my strong suit. I had credit cards and money in my wallet so I looked around until I found a restaurant that seemed decent and grabbed a table. After reviewing the menu and ordering I enjoyed a nice veal saltimbocca and glass of red wine, I settled up and left. Only later did I wonder why my card was accepted, but when I looked at it the expiration date was thirty-five years in the past.
'Okay, I thought, I'm somewhere in the past and I'm the age I would have been back then. Doesn't explain why I'm so much better looking but hey! why look a gift horse in the mouth?'
Walking down the street after eating I realized this was the entertainment district. In addition to many restaurants there were several dance clubs, some with live bands. It was still only nine so a bit early, but I decided to check a few out. A couple looked sketchy but most seemed decent. I selected one and paid the cover charge to enter.
Inside, I scoped the place out, then went to the bar for a drink. I couldn't help but notice that the few women, mostly in twos and threes, were scoping me out. I'd never had that happen back in my 'real' life. I knew I liked it. Over the next half hour the club started filling up and by ten a few brave souls had ventured out onto the dance floor, including a couple of the women from earlier who were dancing with each other.
I was just people watching and sipping my second drink of the night when a very attractive blonde walked up and asked me to dance. I was a bit shocked as the only time in my life a woman asked me to dance was Sadie Hawkins day, back in high school. Nonetheless I'm not a fool so naturally I accepted.
When we got to the dance floor I was even more surprised when the music changed to a slow dance and she held her arms out for me to take the lead. I put one hand on her hip and the other on her back and held her with a small space between us. Her breasts were pressed to my chest and I wondered if that was a conscious decision or just her normal way to dance.
When Foreigner's 'I Want To Know What Love Is' ended the DJ followed it with 'The Vertical Expression (Of Horizontal Desire) by The Bellamy Brothers and she kept us together. With her head resting on my shoulder she softly sang along, in a very pretty, on-key voice. I couldn't help but wonder if she was sending me a message.
When the next song was a fast one she said "Hi, I'm Sandra. May I buy you a drink?"
"Umm, sure, I suppose," I replied, hardly my smoothest. "I'm Terry, by the way."
We found two vacant stools at the bar and she motioned the bartender over. "What would you like," she asked me.
"Johnny Walker Red, neat, please," I answered, looking at the bartender.
