Donald Sloan opened the wooden door with caution. He knew what had occurred last time something like this happened, and he wanted to be prepared for anything.
He stepped into a familiar yet unfamiliar scene, closing the door behind him, which promptly vanished. It was a typical bar; a few smoky tables occupied by drunken groups of friends, and a well-stocked bar on the opposite end from where he stood. He walked over, thinking that an Old Fashioned wouldn’t be so bad right now, taking care to avoid the darts strewn about the floor from an intoxicated attempt to play.
Donald walked up to the bar. The bartender had his back to him, preparing a drink for another patron. He spoke. “What are you doing here?” The bartender turned around, revealing a slightly familiar face.
“Nick Collison? What are you doing here?”
“This is where I work, when I’m not playing basketball. The 29 Point Club, home of the finest cocktails this side of 30. There must be some mistake, however. Your career high in points is 31; you belong in the Hall of the Thirty Point scorers, not here, where all our career highs are 29.”
“Uh, yeah, I already checked that place out. Not really my kind of joint. Too white. Too ethereal. Hey, can I get an Old Fashioned?”
“If you insist. Take a seat.”
Sloan took a seat at the bar, next to a tall, unidentified black man. The man turned to great him.
“What are you doing here?” It was Andrew Wiggins.
“No idea. I must say, this place is pretty nice. A lot more real than the other one I tried.”
“If you say so. I’m only stuck here for a few more weeks hopefully.”
Kawhi Leonard joined the conversation from down the bar, which seemed to stretch on forever. “That’s what I thought. New season, older vets, I thought I’d get 30 within a week. No dice. Tell me, Donald, what was it like? The 30-point Hall?”
Donald grew restive. “Fine, but not any better than this. No alcohol, for one. If I were you, I’d avoid scoring 30 for at least a few more years.”
Nick Collison returned with the cocktail. “I just informed the overseers about the error. It looks like your time with us is coming to an end. Say hi for me to Sebastian Telfair when you return to the Hall of the 30 Point Scorers!”
Sloan could feel himself shimmering away. “Hold on!” He protested, his voice growing faint. “I ain’t want to leave!” Wait!”. With that, he disappeared and found himself back in unwanted surroundings of white and gold.
“Damn it. Where do I go to get an Old Fashioned around here?”