Monday, June 2, 2008

Memorial Day Weekend Update Part 2: Flushing It


Since nothing is going our way tonight, we decide to check out the Nevermore, the new hotel/bar/nightclub in the area. Unlike the Motel in the Woods, the Nevermore's parking lot is full of cars.

"Everybody's here!" whines Larry as we search for a parking spot. Depression hits me like a Mack truck as I envision a boring weekend, highlighted by dangerous rides back from this bar after too many drinks.

We walk in and instantly, I feel stupid. We are the outsiders. We are the bums who are staying at the shittiest motel in the entire state. I feel like, somehow, everyone knows this, and any second, they'll walk up to us and tell us to leave.

As we are admiring the bar area, just off reception, we are approached by a portly man who obviously works at this hotel. He is the man they've probably sent to throw us out. "Can I help you?" he asks.

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"Actually, we're staying at the Dump in the Woods," confesses Larry. We have small talk about how much nicer the Nevermore is compared to where we are currently staying.

The portly man gives a knowing laugh. "They don't have to knock it down. It will fall down on its own."

He casually mentions that the people who own the Nevermore also own the Motel in the Woods, so if we want to switch, they can "arrange it," overriding the motel's anal cancellation policy, which requires seven days' notice, as well as a blood sample from the doctor who delivered you at the hospital.

This peaks our interest. Really? Switch accomodations without a sword fight? See people? Actually have fun this weekend? Not have to drive drunk back from the bar to our shitty motel room each night? No regrets about forgetting to pack bug spray?

He lets us think about it, but before you can say, "martini glass," we had made up our minds.

LARRY: Do you want to ---
ME: YES!

The man has vanished, so we hunt him down and rush over to tell him the good news. "Okay, we want to stay here instead."

"Don't worry, we'll shake our luggage out in the parking lot," I tell him, a reference to the Motel in the Woods' reputation for mold, mildew and bugs.

After a few minutes at the front desk, we get back in the car and speed off to Motel in the Woods, the two of us delirious with excitement. I tell Larry to just drive over their lawn and crash right through their front wall.

Since we didn't unpack, it is easy to snatch all the bags, empty the fridge and throw everything in the trunk of the car. The man at the front desk denies getting a call from the Nevermore, but that doesn't stop us from leaving anyway.

I feel like we've just escaped the Bates Motel as we check into the Nevermore. It's modern, shiny, and there isn't a postcard or a cheesy candy dish to be seen around.

Larry slips the electronic card into the slot and opens the door. Ever see a little kid get so excited over nothing that you want to slap him? That would be me.

The room is massive - and air conditioned. I run all over the room, gasping at amenities that would make anyone else shrug their shoulders. An ironing board - with an iron! A hair dryer! I won't have to iron with a water bottle! A firm, queen-sized bed that doesn't throw you onto the floor! Available Nintendo games on the TV! A bathroom with a door that closes with a knob, and not a hook. (Although I've never seen a toilet flush with such awesome force. You could probably flush a suitcase if you wanted.)

Oddly, the only amenity missing is a mini fridge, so we put the sandwiches on the table near the air conditioner to keep them cool while we go out for drinks.

Back at the bar, I feel like we belong now. We order a couple of vodka cranberries and set ourselves up at the bar.

"This is the smartest thing we've ever done," I say to Larry. The difference in price is well worth not having to admit that you're the only customer at the Motel in the Woods.

We're finally in "vacation mode" and it feels so liberating. We haven't been away in almost a year, so I try to soak up every single second.

Pretty soon, we are wasted. Larry has always had a higher tolerance for alchohol, so before long, I'm reduced to staring up at the colored lighting in what will be the disco area tomorrow night while slowly swiveling the large red chair that I'm sitting on.

We finally head back to the room, and start to devour the sandwiches. There is one half sandwich left that neither of us want. My suspicion that Larry has had too much to drink is confirmed when he throws the half sandwich at me from across the room. It hits me directly in the chest and falls to the floor.

I throw it in the trash can and pick up the tomato piece left behind on the carpet. As I toss it in the pail, I wonder, "Could I have flushed it?"

To be continued...

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