Hello Sunshine

As soon as I get to my room, I leave my stuff at the entrance and trot over to the bed, flopping down on it and burying my face in a pillow. I can feel my hair spray out around me as I bury my face deeper. After laying there for a few, feeling tired and lethargic, I roll over and look at the alarm clock radio, registering the time slowly.

Forty-five minutes. Ugg.

I quickly sit up, fluffing my hair and straightening my shirt. Kicking my legs over the side of the bed, I lean over, unbuckling my shoes and sliding them off, determined to give my feet a rest, no matter how short it may be. After sitting back up, I look around the room, I mean really look, for the first time and smile.

The furniture is a modern black wood with steel fixtures. The bed I'm sitting on is a queen and covered in a fluffy, white comforter, a green blanket folded and placed at the foot of it. There’s a cream colored chair in the corner of the room next to the window and a desk next to that. Across from the bed there’s a wall of black wood drawers and a TV is placed in the center of all it. The carpeting is a green and black circle design, complimenting the rest of the room nicely.

I walk back to the entrance door and drag my bags one by one to the bed, unzipping each after placing it on the queen sized sleeping area. After rummaging through my toiletries suitcase, I pull out my hair brush, a pony, and a small bag of clips. I then stroll to the foyer of the room and turn the handle on the door labeled “bathroom” on a plaque in elegant scrawl. I push open said door with my hip and hastily flick the light switch.

The florescent lights flicker on and reveal a beautiful bathroom. The black wood with steel fixtures theme has been carried over to here and gives the room a warm feel, regardless of the tile floors and marble counter top. I set my things on the counter top, laying them out like a surgeon would his tools. I wander back into the main room and to my suitcases, looking for something to change into.

I quickly decide on a layered, vintage mini skirt and one of my favorite black graphic tees that slides off one shoulder. Once I’m changed, I hop back into the bathroom, picking up my purple brush and raking it through my redish-brown hair. After a few strokes, I move on to picking some clips out of the bag sitting next to it. Expertly, I push my bangs back and snap the clips in place, achieving a bump quickly. I pull the rest of my locks into a high pony, tightening it as much as it will go.

Stepping back from the counter, I look in the wide mirror and take my outfit in, twirling once to get an all around look.

“It works.” I announce to my reflection, nodding once, and then exiting the restroom after flipping the lights off. I check the red numbers of the alarm clock, making sure that I still have time.

Thirty minutes. Awesome!

I meander my way to the desk, reaching under it to open the mini fridge. I grab a bottled water out of the door rack and twist the lid, taking a long slurp of icy cold water. I replace the cap and close the fridge, moving to sit on the bed next to my bags. I go through one travel case with most of interviewing supplies, unable to find my tape recorder. Reaching down, I lift my heavy, over-sized purse unto the bed. After searching it for a good two minutes or so, I pull out my handy dandy tape recorder. I smile, sitting back and relaxing. I sit on my bed, staring off into space, for quite a while, thinking of things to ask and trying to calm my nerves.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself, stretching and sliding off the mattress, “time to go.” I reattach my yellow pumps to my not-so-sore feet, shove the water bottle and tape recorder into my purse, and grab my jacket off of the desk where I had flung it earlier. Slipping my purse onto my shoulder, I grab my key and quickly leave the hotel room, pulling the door closed behind me as I swagger down the hall to the boys’ rooms.

I walk to Gustav’s thinking that since it’s the suite everyone would be there. I knock a couple times, waiting patiently, but after a minute of no answer, I knock again, readjusting my purse nervously. Once again, there’s no answer and I start to fret. Pulling my phone out of my purse I check the time.

4:50. I still have time; ten whole minutes of time.

I look around the corridor from closed door to closed door, unsure if these are the rooms everyone else is staying in. “It’s worth a shot,” I murmur, walking up to door 418 and knocking confidently. There’s no answer, causing me to groan and drop my head. I do this little dance, walking up to the door, knocking, get no response, and groaning, to four other doors. When the sixth one doesn’t work, I walk into the middle of the hall, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at the wall.

Out of no where I hear this explosion of giggles. I jump, my hand flying automatically to my chest, clutching at my heart. I look down the hall; the door at the end of it is cracked open, no lights on it the room. My eyebrows furrow and I take a step closer. “Excuse me?” I call, extending my neck as I ask.

“We already tried that. They won’t open their doors.” A female voice calls from the gloom of the room. I take a step closer, curiosity enveloping me.

That makes sense…

“Okay…” I respond, taking yet another step closer to the room at the end of the hall.

“Are you a fan too?” another unidentified female voice asks. I nod then call yes, unsure if they can see my face.

“But I’m not just a fan.” I add, flipping a piece of hair off of my shoulder. I immediately regret opening my mouth. Two young females about the age of sixteen shoot out of the room, coming right into my bubble and almost running into me. Both of them have huge smiles on their faces. One has short red hair framing her olive face with deep set blue eyes. The other has sandy blonde hair that brushes her hips with light brown eyes. I take a step back, suddenly becoming fairly scared. They don’t look like crazy stalker fans, but you can never be sure.

“You’re an interviewer, aren’t you!?” The red head asks. I recognize her voice as the one that spoke to me last.

“Umm…” I step back again, clutching my purse. They take a step towards me in unison, the grins still plastered to their faces. I shake my head taking yet another step away from them. I look at the blonde, she’s clutching a small blue camera.

“You should-“ she’s cut off by the opening of a door behind me; immediately both girls’ eyes get wide and glossy. I turn, expecting to see the confused or irritated faces of the band, but am instead greeted with Saki’s confused expression. He takes one look at my desperate appearance and takes control of the situation.

“Move along ladies. Stop harassing Miss Knapp.” He reprimands, taking me by the elbow and leading me towards the hotel room he had just exited.

“We weren’t harassing her!” The ginger exclaims, pointing at me accusingly. Saki just shakes his head, nudging me into the hotel room.

“I can have you escorted off of the premises,” I hear him threaten. Whether or not he actually can, I have no clue. I walk into the main part of the room, recognizing; it looks just like mine.

“Hallo!” Bill calls from his perch on a stool. He’s sitting in front of a make-shift vanity, pulling at a few random strands of hair. He’s smiling, as per usual.

“Hi,” I say to the room, shooting a smile in Bill’s direction. Tom’s sitting on the bed, remote in hand, flipping through channels on the TV. Georg and Gustav are sitting in chairs staring at the television as well. I get a mumbled hello from the other three boys. For a few minutes I stand in the center of the room awkwardly, waiting.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Tom asks, looking at me from under the brim of his hat. I raise an eyebrow, silently gesturing that there is no where to sit. He pats the bed next to him, returning to blankly staring at the TV screen.

“Had your first encounter with some fans, I see.” Georg comments, Saki finally walking back into the room. I move out of his way, sitting on the edge of the bed where Tom had suggested.

“Yeah,” I laugh, “That was interesting.” I look over at him and Georg is smiling that famous crooked smirk. “So…” I trail off, uncertain of how to actually start the interview.

“Ja?” Bill swivels on the stool, turning to me with expectant eyes. I reach into my purse, retrieving the recorder. He smirks, raising an eyebrow. I click the “record” button and smile.

“So, how are you guys liking the states?”