It was 8:45 p.m. when he walked down the street half expecting a bar or someone he knew to pop up, so he wouldn’t feel so alone. As we walked farther and farther down the empty street, he came across exactly what he was looking for; he didn’t intend to end up there, but he walked into his former neighborhood bar in the Bronx, from before he moved to New York City to pursue his music career. He walked in and removed his cap and coat and placed them on the coat rack by the door. It was quite a scene he had walked into, with an assortment of character sitting in the aging bar at 9 o’clock on a Saturday; all looking for something to remind them of the best times of their lives. He sat at the bar next to an older man with large bags under his eyes like he had worked hard for his entire life and had seen things never to be unseen. When he spoke he had an old Russian accent, he was drinking a tonic and gin and savoring it as if it were his last. He spoke to himself, muttering about an old memory. As this man spoke his rough English and grasped his drink, his old friend John approaches him and asks for his order of a scotch and soda. As he is mixing his drink he is chatting with his old friend, Bill remembered John dream to escape from the old dusty bar and become an actor in Hollywood.

As he listens to all the chatter around him and sips his scotch and soda, he soon gets the intention to write about what he is seeing and hearing, he scrawls on a soggy bar napkin:

Its nine o’clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There’s and old man sitting next to me
Making love to his tonic and gin
He says, “Son can you play me a memory
I’m not really sure how it goes
But it’s sad and it’s sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger mans clothes.”
As he completed the beginning of his thought, the manager approached him and asked “Aren’t you that fella, uh, what’s his name? Joel? Right? ” Bill was conflicted on whether to run from the fame or to claim it. He took the true choice; “Billy Joel, that’s right.” The manager smirked and asked “Why don’t you play something, I’d love to hear something” Bill slid onto the bench of the black grand piano and lifted the cover and stroked the keys. He adjusted his microphone and began She’s Got a Way from his album released a couple months before. The people began to drop singles in the wine glass on the piano. Once the song was over and he refused an encore, Bill walked over to the bar stool he was sitting at ordered another drink and began writing again:
Sing us a song you’re the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
We’re all in the mood for a melody and you’ve got us feeling alright
Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free and
He a quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there’s some place he’d rather be
He says “Bill I believe this is killing me” as a smile ran away from his face
“Well, I’m sure I could be a movie star if I could get out of this place”

He looked across the bar a noticed old acquaintances’ of his Davey who had been in the navy since he was 17 and Paul who was 52 and hadn’t married and chose the career as a unsuccessful real estate novelist. As he peered across the room, he noticed a man smoking, with his tie loosed and his hat falling, he argued with the waitress not understanding the no smoking sign hung above his head. He then felt complete, he understood what he had walked into and it was nothing out of the ordinary and he enjoyed the chaos.
sing us a song you're the piano man
sing us a song tonight
well we're all in the mood for a melody
and you got us all feeling alright

He finally finished his thought, congratulated himself with another drink and walked up to the piano ready to perform.