Tentatively negotiating the icy pavement, I climbed inside the Uber. Within minutes, my driver slammed on the brakes. The car spun…
Dazed, I opened my eyes. A burly man in a pinstripe suit helped me from the car, steering me towards a barber shop.
“Password?” he asked.
I suddenly became aware of my outfit. A flapper dress, nude stockings and t-strap kitten heels.
“Christopher Columbus!” I exclaimed.
Nodding, he opened the door.
A torch singer wailed from a stage; elegant couples sat at tables drinking from teacups.
A Rudolph Valentino lookalike approached, taking my arm.
“You’re late,” he whispered, ominously.