An Itinerary. Of Sorts.

[I turned my most recent trip into a story of mostly fiction (real story to come soon). Enjoy.]

 

An Itinerary. Of Sorts.

 

Friday:

10am –                

Leave [insert appropriate state].

Bring (of consumable and questionable variety):

1. Coffee

2. Vinyl

3. Booze

4. Smokes

5. Your dad’s .45

6. Camera with cracked lens

7. Mix CD

 

Note: Allot 1-2 hours for pit stops.  These include:

1. The biggest ball of yarn

2. Roadside market selling organic honey and wax candles

3. Your mom’s house

 

4pm –  

Arrive at destination.

Check into hotel.  

Ask for one key that you and you alone will use.

 

4:30pm–

Dance on the mattress (in the non-sexual term).

Test its elasticity.

 

5:00pm –

Construct fake name. Choose between:

1. Daisy Buchanan (points to those who get the reference)

2. Pilar Templeton

3. Rococo del Toro

 

6pm –  

Hit the bar.

Drinks Moscow Mules all night while bemoaning the fact that at this shoddy bar, in this shoddy town, they lack the signature copper cup.

 

8pm –  

Dinner.

Dine at the diner. Eat eggs and bacon. Sober up with black coffee.

Smooth out the local newspaper and hope it’s worth reading.

 

9:00pm –

Call it an early night.

Go back to room. Ground level, corner suite.

Smoke parliaments on the patio and pilfer miniatures from the mini bar. The ones that held clear liquor, you’ll refill later with water.

Silence the cell, you don’t get service anyway.               

 

Saturday:

8am –   

Wake.

Take in the emptiness of the king bed. Burrow in sheets. Crack the knuckles, like always.

Shower, rinse, repeat.

 

10:30am –

Breakfast.

Diner again. Two eggs, over easy. Black coffee.

 

11:00am –

Pool.

Order Bloody Marys, one olive, not two.

Try to read, only to re-read the same paragraph 17 times.  Instead, end up eavesdropping on other people’s conversations.

 

3:00pm –

Go back to room.

Nap.

 

5:00pm –

Wake up.

Examine sunburn. Bum aloe vera from neighbors. Say hi to the baby in her crib. Coo words you didn’t think you knew.

 

5:45pm –

Get ready. For what, you’re not sure.

You have a glass of wine as you sort through eyeshadows and listen to a dead Casey Kasem count down the top ten hits of one  of those long-ago eras.

 

6:30pm –

Dinner.

You leave the hotel. Find the restaurant the concierge recommended.

 They seat you in a dark corner. You order oysters and a glass of something white. Smile at the elderly couple in a near booth. They touch heads, touch hands, and your heart burns.

 

8:00pm –

After-dinner drinks.

There’s a loud band playing in the corner of the hotel bar. You grit your teeth at the loudness and let a guy wearing a t-shirt with the slogan, Beer, it’s cheaper than gas, buy you a drink.

You dance and when his hand slides across your back, you call him Mister Feel Good and he laughs. His teeth are white and perfectly straight.

 

11:45pm –

Bed.

You should have asked for two room keys.

 

Sunday:

8:00am –

Get up.

Coffee. He makes the first pot. When he makes the second, that’s when you get that what-the-hell burst of hope.

He tells you there’s a dinosaur museum in town. Asks if you want to go. You go and you like it.    Laugh until your belly button hurts

 

12:00pm –

Check out.

You extend your stay. You don’t check out after all.

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