Nolan drives, following the directions to the Teddy Bear Inn. As he slows the car, the word “vacancy” beckons from the hotel’s street sign, though without the “va.”
“Get your cancys here,” I say as Nolan flips on the blinker.
“I’ve always wanted a cancy,” he quips, pulling into a parking space.
“You’re gonna have everything your heart desires tonight, then,” I tease.
Teasing is good.
Teasing is us.
I’ve so got this.
I sling on my backpack, and we head to the lobby. It’s everything the broken-ass sign outside promised. A clogged drain belches near the entryway. Room 102 has a pile of stained towels sitting outside the door. The glass window to the lobby is fogged and cracked.
We are slumming it, but hey, more money for the food offerings for the grandmas.
When I push open the lobby door, a bell announces our arrival, though it’s less like a chime, more like a buzz saw. Behind the front desk, a burly man with beady eyes rips off a hunk of a Red Vines and smacks his lips loudly as he chews. “Wazz up?”
“Hey there. We want to check in,” Nolan says.
“Cool. Check-in’s at three,” the man says, pointing to the clock.
“That’s in, like, two minutes, man,” Nolan says amiably, giving his best help me out here, bud grin.
“Exactly.” The man takes another bite of the licorice like he’s ripping off a chunk of gazelle for dinner and stares at Nolan as he chews.
One hundred twenty seconds later, the man finishes his snack and pushes his Red Vines tub to the other side of the desk. Pasting on a cheery grin, he seems to transform as he says, “And now how can I help you?”
“Surprisingly, we wanted to check in,” Nolan says.
“Excellent. What an absolute delight to have you here at the Teddy Bear Inn.”
A few minutes later, he hands us each a key to our thirty-nine dollars-a-night rooms. “You two will be right next to each other. And if you need anything, the rooms adjoin too. Just rap on the door next to the TV, and it’s almost like a portal to the other room.”
“Sounds exactly like a portal. Not almost,” I correct.
Oops.
That was the dick in me talking.
“We like to make some things easy,” Red Vines man whispers, then gives an exaggerated wink.
Dude, a portal to the man I daydream about isn’t making my life easy.
Being in Vegas isn’t erasing my wandering thoughts.
Sleeping near Nolan won’t settle my pulse.
But we’re here for business, so we head down the hall together. “Meet you in an hour to begin our journey,” I say to Nolan, then unlock the door to my room, grateful we aren’t sharing one since who needs that temptation?
Not me.
Definitely not me.
5
Midnight Road Trip
Emerson
* * *
To say I want to die is an exaggeration, and I am not prone to exaggeration.
But it’s with zero hyperbole that, two minutes later, I mutter, “I’m going to die.”
With a scarf jammed against my mouth and my overnight bag in hand, I fling myself out of my room. I hold my breath as I pound on Nolan’s door.
He bursts out a second later, his carry-on slung on his shoulder, and without consultation, we bolt down the hall, running for our lives.
If we can just make it to the light.
It’s close, so close.
Almost there.
I slam a hand on the door, stumble out of the vomitorium motel, and into the afternoon sunlight of the parking lot, gasping.
Palms on knees, I gulp in the fresh air. I fan it into my mouth.
“I’m convinced the prior guest ran an embalming clinic in my room,” I tell him, heaving.
“Mine was a secret test lab for how long it takes for food to go bad. The last item they tested was Limburger cheese.”
Not to be outdone in the smell arena, I counter with, “Mine also had the distinct aroma of toe jam.”
“Mine smelled like belly button lint,” he says, determined fucker.
A retch hits the back of my throat and I gag, feeling it down to my toes. “You win. Woman down,” I say, waving the white flag since that’s a nasty scent.
“We can’t stay here tonight,” he says.
“Ya think?”
“Seriously. We need to find a room on the Strip, Emerson, even if we have to crack open a piggy bank.”
“Agreed, but the Phone Geek Show is in full swing. Maybe we can sleep in the car if we can’t find a room. It’s better than that,” I say, pointing at the putrid Teddy Bear Inn.
But time’s a-ticking; we’ll have to deal with the room situation later. The Impress Dot and Bette Project, featuring amazing Vegas food, begins now.
It starts at The Cosmopolitan, home to Momofuku and its divine Brussels sprouts. The first order of business is to stop there and snag some goodies to review with the two besties in their home.
Actually, the first order of business is to freshen up, and since I couldn’t do it in the Teddy Bear tar pits, I pop into a luxurious ladies’ room off the casino floor. A love seat graces a lounge area, and as I reapply lip liner in the mirror, I make an executive decision.