Quick as a blackjack dealer, we divvied up the name Venus Fly Trap. Without question, Venus went to Soozie though I secretly felt I could be Venus. And before I begged no, Lisa more than enthusiastically claimed the name Trap. I was relieved to default to Fly. 

As VFT, we started out busking in SoHo; singing on street corners for money. Our shtick; play four songs, act exhausted, announce a break, collect money, stuff said money into a velvet sack out of sight from the next crowd. Look hot. Rinse and repeat.

We shared the same corner as aerialist, Philippe Petit, who once terrified the nation by tip-toeing on high wire between the Twin Towers without a net. We Christmas caroled with Fred from The B52’s and recorded island-inspired songs for Rado and Ragney the writers of Hair. We also opened for and sang backup with David Johansen’s Buster Poindexter. 

None of it was easy for me. I had joined the trio primarily as a songwriter, not a singer. Whenever I let loose a sour note, Venus whacked me over the head with her violin bow. It became part of the act and one of the ways in which I became a better singer; one who favored hats. 

All that head-crackin’ gave me the bright idea that we should go to Europe. Cheap, stand-by flights were had after sleeping on the hard-tiled floor at JFK airport. Girls without a bedroll, 1984 death-defying divas, voracious vagabonds were we.

We killed at London’s Covent Garden and then wowed in front of a captive audience on the Ferry between England and France. In gay Paris, we oolala’d crowds outside the Louvre, but never went in. We fascinated under the Eiffel Tower (someone even paid for our haircuts) and stunned on the Italian Riviera all the while playing the usual four songs. 

“Hey, when you gonna learn some new songs?” shouted a tourist. 

“Never!” we shouted back before selling him a $10 cassette of said songs. With my share of the take, I bought postcards featuring topless sunbathers and secretly mailed them to the producer of the Johnny Carson show.

It was Venus’s idea to visit Monte Carlo’s brightly lit Casino Square where high rollers howled over wins and losses; electronic music churned and everyone blew smoke rings in each other’s faces. 

Feeling out-of-place as a non-drinker/non-gambler, I angled my way to the corner of a large sunk-in table lined in green felt where colorful chips were piled high as the energy in the room. Like any fly, or very short person, I simply wanted to observe the action unnoticed. A few minutes into the game, something suddenly flew in my direction and I reflexively caught it. 

The room fell silent. People started looking at the floor, under tables, at their clothing. I opened my sweaty palm to a single die. Holding it up I asked, “Is this what ya’all are looking for?” 

There was an uproar and from under a room full of snake eyes, fingers pointed, and then an alarm sounded and with it, two hefty men appeared from the back room. They confiscated the die and, lifting me slightly off the floor by my elbows, escorted me out of the building. During my exit, I signaled desperately to Venus and Trap who pretended not to know me. 

Alone in the parking lot, I placed my first ever bet. Not a long shot, but a wager nonetheless: three part harmony is always better than two, I said to myself, and in a few seconds, Venus and Trap reluctantly rolled out of the casino. Meanwhile, back in New York City, we had just been voted Best Street Performers by the Village Voice Newspaper. We immediately flew home to collect our reward; an unpaid gig on their stage in some NY park I can’t even remember. 

At home, a letter greeted me that promised, “if ever in town and in need of a job, please contact me.” It was signed Fred Silverman, producer of the Johnny Carson show. I went to Los Angeles, briefly, but purposely did not connect with Fred because, as everyone knew, California was slated to fall off the continent at any moment. My plan was to remain adrift in New York City.

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.