Paris, France – 1929
Landing the booth in a hospital, the four emerged and found themselves in 1920s France; marveling at the difference in fashion, automobiles, and hearing jazz musicians on the streetcorners. Pulling out the notebook of instructions, Bill began to read the first page.
"Okay, dudes," Bill began, as he quoted Rufus, "Rufus says 'William, Theodore, in order to begin your guitar training, you need to find one of the most influential guitarists of the 20th century: Django Reinhardt, along with his brother Joseph.'"
"Hey, know that name," Ted exclaimed, "My grandma used to have his records. Django was an outstandingly fast-fingered jazz dude!"
"So why did we land near a hospital?" Elizabeth asked.
"That's not them on the corner, is it?" Joanna asked, pointing to some of the street performers.
The four looked over at the street performers; a guitar/banjo duo who were playing out of tune, as two other mimes attempted to entertain the crowd, to varying degrees of success. Ted looked at the book of information Rufus provided them for some extra context.
"It says that in November of 1928, Django was caught in a fire and had burns all over his body, including his hands," Ted said, "He was in the hospital for 18 months!"
"That poor dude," Bill replied, expressing his sympathy, "We should be pretty close to when he gets better though!"
"That's awful," Joanna concurred, "But why now? If he's still recovering, he probably can't play yet?"
"Rufus must have sent us to this point in time for a reason, Jo," Bill replied, "The book says he was able to teach himself how to play again."
"He's probably still in the hospital," Ted observed.
"Only one way to find out, dude," Bill agreed, "Let's go."
The Wyld Stallyns nonchalantly walked into the Parisian hospital, looking for a way to get to Django without having to bring too much attention to themselves. Spotting a supply closet, the four ducked in and found several lab coats and nurse's uniforms hanging up in the corner. Moments later, Bill and Ted emerged in white lab coats, albeit with Bill still sporting his backwards baseball cap, while the princesses draped the long, white nurses' gowns over their clothes and tied their hair back into ponytails.
"Bill, are you sure about this?" Ted whispered to his best friend.
"Definitely, Ted," Bill affirmed, "I don't think they'll let just anybody off the street into most hospital rooms, even in 1929. If we pretend to be doctors and nurses, they'll totally let us in and we can find Django!"
The four walked up to the front desk and approached the receptionist.
"How's it going, French medical admin babe?" Bill cheerfully greeted the secretaries, "We were looking for a part of the hospital where people go when their skin has been most egregiously burned."
"Bonjour, Docteur," the secretary greeted, seemingly unfazed the unusual-looking visitors, "Do you have an appointment?"
"Well, no…but we just got here all the way from America to help with a particular patient, a Mr. Django Reinhardt," Bill replied, attempting to concoct a believable cover story, "I'm…Dr. David Lee Hagar, and this is Dr. Hendrix!"
"Yeah, I…specialize in standing next to your fires," Ted said, nervously trying to play along, "And these are our nurses, the…Pointer Sisters!" Joanna and Elizabeth awkwardly tried their best to smile and wave, playing along with the boys' charade. The receptionist thought the four seemed a bit strange, but didn't see any harm in letting them inside.
"Ah, I see. Bienvenu," the receptionist cheerfully welcomed them, "Monsieur Reinhardt should be available at the moment. The burn ward should be down the hall on your right and the final corridor on the left."
The Wyld Stallyns thanked the receptionist and made their way to the burn ward, discreetly carrying acoustic guitars underneath their lab coats. As they made their way into the ward, they searched around until they spotted a young man holding a new steel-strung acoustic guitar at the bedside of one of the patients.
"Woah, check it out," Ted whispered, "Those must be the Reinhardt brothers!" As they listened in on the conversation, it was clear to them that Joseph Reinhardt was trying to cheer up his brother, who was still very emotionally distraught.
"Come on, Django, you must give it a try," Joseph pleaded, "After all, practice makes perfect, right? That way we can be playing together again in no time!"
"Oh, what is the use, Joseph?" Django replied, "Even with this fancy new guitar you've given me, I'll never be able to play like I used to. Besides, I have bigger things to worry about. Did you know one of the doctors here wanted to amputate my right leg?!"
"Excuse us, dudes," Bill interrupted, as the four Stallyns approached the Reinhart brothers, "We couldn't help but overhearing that you guys are guitar players. So are we!" As he and Ted unveiled their own acoustic guitars from underneath their lab coats, the brothers looked at their new visitors with confusion.
"You can't possibly be doctors," Django observed, "Are you gypsies as well?"
"No way, Django dude," Bill replied, "We're just big fans, looking to learn from one of the best! I'm Bill S. Preston, Esquire!"
"And I'm Ted 'Theodore' Logan," Ted chimed in.
"I'm Princess Elizabeth, daughter of King Henry V of England, and this is my sister, Princess Joanna," Elizabeth introduced herself as she and Joanna joined in the introduction.
"And together, we are…" Joanna began, before the four of them proclaimed in unsion, "…WYLD STALLYNS!"
Django and Joseph continued to stare at their four visitors in disbelief.
"Je suis désolé mon frère," Joseph whispered to his brother, "I did not know they placed you in an insane asylum…"
"So, you are musicians," Django said, ignoring his brother's warnings, "What do you want with me?"
"Well, we're in a band," Ted explained, "And we've heard how you have been playing guitar in Europe better than anyone!"
"My esteemed colleague is correct, Monsieur Reinhardt," Bill concurred, "We have come a long way to try and learn a few things from one of the all-time greats, and you are totally one of them, dude! You too, Joseph!"
"You're very kind, Americans," Django replied, before noting the damage done to his left hand, "Unfortunately, I don't know how much I'd be able to help. As you can see, I have been in a horrible accident and I can't play like I used to. I don't know if I ever will again! I can't even hold"
"Don't speak like that, Django," Joseph chided his brother, "The doctors said that you'll be able to make a full recovery, it just takes time!"
"That is so lovely," Elizabeth remarked, as both she and Joanna were touched by Joseph's encouragement and support of his brother.
"Dude, have you ever thought about finger-picking…or using power chords?" Ted suggested, not realizing that power chords would not be invented or used until the 1950s.
Despite his reservations, Django reluctantly took the new guitar Joseph had brought for him, and began plucking away, mainly using his index and middle fingers on his left hand to create bar chords. After a short time, Django began to get more comfortable playing again, and began playing a series of intricate chords and melodies. As he completed his playing, Django was met with a round of applause from Bill. Ted, Joanna, and Elizabeth.
"Django, you've still got it, dude," Bill exclaimed, as he and Ted crossed their arms in triumph.
"Thank you, my friends," Django said, feeling overwhelmed with emotion, "And thank you, Joseph. It's been months since I've picked up a guitar; I didn't think I would ever be able to play again."
"Sometimes all you need is a little confidence, Monsieur Reinhardt," Ted concurred.
"Thank you again, mysterious American fake doctors," Django replied, "Is there any way I can repay you for your kind words?"
"Well...we were wondering if you might be able to show us a few techniques on guitar?" Bill nervously asked.
"We've been trying to get better on guitar ever since we were kids," Ted explained, "But neither of our parents ever wanted to pay for guitar lessons, and our chops are most unrefined!"
"Don't be so hard on yourself, darling," Elizabeth interjected, reassuring her fiancée and his best friend, "You have both been getting much better!"
"We'd be happy to help," Django offered, as Bill and Ted sat down with their guitars next to Joseph at Django's bedside.
"What kind of music do you two like to play?" Joseph inquired, "I have heard lots of exciting things about this new American music style called jazz. Are you both jazz guitarists?"
"Well, actually we play mostly hard ro..." Ted began before Bill interrupted him, remembering that in 1929, there was no such thing as rock and roll just yet.
"Yep, that's what we like to play," Bill interrupted, "We really like the blues too. Also, our lovely fiancées here are in the band as well. Joanna is an excellent drummer, and Elizabeth plays keyboards...I mean, piano, and both girls are outstanding singers!"
"Well, I'm still learning about jazz," Django said, "But what I do know is that while knowing music theory and having classical training is very helpful, it isn't everything!"
"What do you mean, dude?" Ted asked, curiously.
"Well, I've met several musicians who are classically trained and technically very proficient," Django explained, "But sometimes there is an intangible sense of feeling that you can hear and see in some players. Especially when it comes to improvisation and really being able to express yourself through your instrument. There are some things out there that you can't teach."
"Drag," Bill said, worrying that he and Ted might not have that level of talent.
"Don't be too discouraged, my friends," Django reassured them, "Sometimes all you need is a little confidence!"
With that, Django and Joseph began to play one of their favorite pieces, and Bill and Ted gradually began to join in. Eventually they struggled to keep pace with the Reinhardt brothers, but they found themselves playing the right chords and following along by ear.
For the next hour or so, the six new friends continued to jam, trading licks and solos, to the delight of the other patients in the burn ward. Bill and Ted found themselves feeling much more natural in their playing. Previously, they had been so preoccupied with reading guitar tablature, worrying about not being as technically minded, that they had forgotten what it was like when they first picked up guitars as children, and would often play along to songs they heard on the radio or from their own massive record collections. Ted was often the faster soloist of the two, while Bill had a knack for coming up with riffs and arrangements. However, they both showed themselves to have more natural ability than they had previously given themselves credit for.
"Très bien, mes amis, very good," Django said, applauding their abilities, "I can see lots of potential here!"
"I agree," Joseph concurred, "These things take time and practice, but I think you two have the potential to become a fantastic guitar duo! Obviously, all four of you love music very much. As long as you play with passion and hard work, you can do anything you put your minds to!"
"Much appreciated, Reinhardt brothers," Bill said, as more doctors and nurses entered the room, wondering what all the commotion was, and not recognizing Bill, Ted, Jo, and Liz as being legitimate medical personnell.
"That is enough! We can't have you all making such noise," the doctors insisted, attempting to quiet down the room, "You four: visiting hours are over! These patients need their rest!"
"I think that's our cue to leave," Joanna meekly observed, encouraging the other three to start getting ready to go.
"Catch you later, Reinhardt dudes," Bill and Ted said in unison, as they thanked the brothers and bid their farewell.
"Bon voyage, Wyld Stallyns," the Reinhardt brothers replied together, before their mysterious new friends left the room.
Bill and Ted were pleasantly surprised as they and the Princesses triumphantly exited the hospital and made their way back to the booth.
"That was fantastic," Joanna said, "We've never heard you boys play like that before!"
"We knew you had it in you," Elizabeth said, lovingly encouraging Ted, while Joanna expressed the same affection to Bill.
"Thanks, babes," Bill and Ted replied in unison before they checked their notebook again.
"Woah, you're not going to believe who we're supposed to go see next," Bill said, as he showed the other three where and when their next destination was.
"Looks like our next visit is going to be a crash course in songwriting," Ted said, as the four of them did a celebratory air guitar.
The Wyld Stallyns entered the booth, and were shortly whisked off to their next destination.