Monthly Archives: April 2016

The Convention

My parents and I had just checked into the hotel of the convention. My little brother, Cole was the key note speaker the next day. Something about his ground breaking technology in the field of internet science, I wasn’t really sure. This was a big day for him so we all flew half way across the country to give his speech.

Our room was more like a small apartment. Cole’s company spared no expense, even letting us fly first class. I had my own little nook with a comfy bed and a window overlooking the sea. The streets below were filled with tiny ant sized people from up here on the 87th floor. It would have been worth the trip just to stare at the view but I decided to join the party that was happening on the main convention floor.

Not all of the booths had been set up yet, though there were plenty of activities for all ages. My parents headed off to the casino attached to the hotel, I headed to the hotel bar. Cole had some preparation to take care of so we hadn’t seen him all night.

At the bar I met some new friends. The couple, Jenny and Torrance were here for their honeymoon, didn’t know about the convention and planned on swimming with the dolphins in the morning. Hank, a scruffy guy, told me he was touring the county on his father’s fat bob. Monica was here for the convention, had been here at the hotel for a week already because she was so excited. She had heard about my brother’s work and wanted to get to know him. I told her I’d see if I could manage a meeting between the two of them when there was a low point in Cole’s schedule. She beamed with excitement and bought me another drink. I hadn’t the heart to tell her I wasn’t sure at all if he had any down time, but took her number down anyway.

The five of us talked long past midnight, sharing stories and jokes, drink after drink. The couple headed off to bed first, of course. So then it was just Hank, Monica, and me. Our words got slurred and there were outbursts of dancing to whatever came on the radio. Poor Monica couldn’t take it much longer and headed off to bed leaving me and Hank to dance until three in the morning. After telling me he hadn’t had that much fun in years, we took our last shot from the bottle we purchased from the bar, he gave me his business card and we parted ways.

The convention hall connected the two towers of the hotel, my parents were probably fast asleep in our room on the other side. It seems like me and my little group were not the only ones to stay awake. The hall was littered with people. Some, still in a party mode from the night, some just now arriving to set up their booths. With all of the new technology, I should have been amazed. However that last drink was finally starting to sink in, I stumbled my way through not knowing what sound came from where and blinded by the lights. I swore saw people getting into photo booths and coming out monsters, large men on stilts, cotton candy floating in the air. I began to think I walked into a circus.

I finally made my way to the elevator bank, but it was blocked by a large lady. In my stupor, I barely made out the words “Elevator broke, use stairs.” Totally flabbergasted I looked at the lady, 87 floors up I would have to climb I thought. She seemed to have heard my thoughts and looked sympathetic, but still pointed towards the stairwell.

I began my way up up up. The first few floors didn’t seem as terrible as I had imagined. The drunken state I was in seemed to make everything easier. That was until I was about halfway up, pain in my legs and heavy breathing set in. The twists and turns of the stairwell were making me dizzy. I refused to stop, I grabbed on to the railing and got down on my knees to literally crawl up the stairs.

I finally reached a door with the number 87 written in big red lettering. Exhausted, I pulled open the door.

“Hello?” I heard a woman’s voice from the couch in front of me. In the haze of being intoxicated and worn out from the literal climb up the stairs I barely could make out the scene.

This wasn’t my hotel room that was for certain. The door to the stairwell wouldn’t lead directly to the room. And I don’t remember there being any couches in the lobby of the elevator bank. As my eyes tried to focus, I noticed the pea-green shag carpet below me. It felt soft and new, I would have stayed there to nap if I hadn’t seen the two big floral print couches with four people sitting on it. The two girls had long wavy hair and headbands across their foreheads. The two men had hair almost as long, wearing silk button down shirts.

“Hey dude, you look terrible!” One of the men shouted.

“Where… Where are my parents?”

“What parents?” A girl said, in a green colored blouse. She almost matched the carpet below. I searched around for my own answers and noticed the wood paneling on the walls. It was clear I wasn’t in the sleek modern hotel I thought I was in. I looked around for windows for more proof.

“Dude, come chill out on the sofa here. You look like you could use a hit.” The other man said to me holding out a small lit cigarette.

“But my hotel room, my parents. Where am I?” I tried to stand up and caught more sight of their outfits. “Are you guys in a costume contest? Your clothes look very 70’s.”

“Uh, dude. This is the 70’s.” The green bloused girl looked at me with a new confusion in her eyes.

To Be Continued….


Flash Fiction I Win

I made a bet with myself the day you told me you didn’t want anything serious.

I knew you’d come around eventually.

And while I promised myself I wouldn’t take anything you did to heart,

that I wouldn’t let my feelings get in the way,

I hid them in a box somewhere anyway.

And then you came around.

Suddenly, it was as if the words you never said appeared in place.

Like home was calling.

Now if only I could find that box,

and come running.

 

 


Flash Fiction drinks.

Driving down the interstate and there’s a sign that reads “don’t text and drive” and I look down at my hand. It isn’t a phone that I’m holding. It’s you, fast asleep from too many drinks.
No, you’re not a text. You’re a person. If that isn’t a testament of my love, give me that ticket.