Road Trip

“Craig...” I heard someone whine from the other side of consciousness. I was barely awake, my eyes were glued together, to the point where I couldn’t physically open them. I was that drained. I lay carelessly on the saddened bed, my legs suspended in the air hanging off the bed.

“Craig...” The voice said again. I could barely muster the strength to reply, but I figured the voice was either Max, or the scary receptionist.

“Craiiiiggg?” Max whined. I sighed, finally becoming responsive. I really needed to be a heavier sleeper, especially with Max around. I was woken up far too easily.

“Yes, Max?” I croaked, opening my eyes to the darkened room. I stared at the patterned room, trying to muffle my anger. I didn’t wanna flip out at Max for waking me.

“We should go out,” He said, simply. I looked at my watch I had lazily discarded on the table beside the double bed Max and I shared (The Receptionist mistook us for gay, therefore giving us a couple’s room. Awkward Much?) I squinted at my watch.

4.39am

I couldn’t contain my anger. “Fucking hell Max, its 4.39 in the morning, do we have to go out now?” I protested. What he meant be going out was to go to some sort of strip club or bar. Which knowing this part of North America, they would still be open and bursting at the seams right now.

“Dude, you know how much I need a good fuck right now,” Max hit back, almost pleading. I felt for him, really. But I just didn’t have the energy to sympathise.

“Yes, Max and you’re not the only one but there is a time for these things,” I almost shouted.

“Yeah, this time. 4 in the morning, pissed out of your head, having picked up the chick in some sleazy bar, not having a clue who it is and just moaning some random chick’s name you thought you heard over booming music.”

I sighed, exasperated.

“Max, you can go on your own if you want but I’m bashed. I’m going back to sleep. I promise we can go out tomorrow night. All nighter. But for now, I need sleep,” I groaned, turning away from him.

“But-” Max protested.

“No.” I stated, hoping that was final. I listened to him sigh and turn away from me, finally silencing before I dropped back into a dreamless sleep.

---------------

9:30am, Motel Jersey, June 2nd

The next morning, when Max and I were fully awake, having had our morning coffee and had stopped bickering, we sat on the bed with Max’s huge map of North America spread out in front of us, which marked the main highways in America and highlighted the states and major cites. Max held his red sharpie proudly, he never went anywhere without his sharpies. Nobody knew why, but I suppose they did come in use sometimes. Like that time he defaced George Bush campaign posters all around New York.

“Right, “ he said, drawing a circle around New York where we started our trip. “We came along this way, didn’t we?” He asked, tracing the highway we had come down with his sharpie. He stopped in the middle of it abruptly, having traced into New Jersey, which was where we were. I nodded in approval.

We said at the beginning of the trip we would only highlight on the map where we had been, not where we were going to go. And only plan which direction we were gonna head when we came to it. We also had this other idea where we’d close our eyes, and throw the sharpie at the map and wherever it landed and made a mark, that’s where we’d finish up. No matter what. We can take any route there we want, just as long as when we do get there, we get the next flight home from there.

“Do you wanna do the blind pen throwing thing now?” I asked Max.

“You can do the honours if you like?” Max offered, putting the pen in my lap.

“No, you should do it, I was an asshole last night,” I admitted, throwing the pen back to him. I did feel really quite bad about last night though.

“It’s fine, Mabbitt, just do it!” Max exclaimed, throwing the sharpie back. He missed, and the pen flew toward the map, slipping through my fingers as I tried to catch it. The pen hit the map, drawing a big, fat red line across Miami, Florida down south.

“Oh, that’s a good place to finish! I exclaimed, watching the pen roll back toward Max, as if it knew it’s proud owner. Max nodded in agreement. “It has an airport too,” I said, pointing to the little aeroplane shaped symbol next to where it said Miami on the map. Max smiled and looked further up the map, seeing where we could venture next.

“How about Atlantic city? It’s supposed to be immense,” Max said, stabbing at the map. I looked closer, seeing it was only 30 miles down the highway from here, a smile grew on my face.

This is where the adventure really began.

“Let’s do it,” I said, getting up from the bed. I realised I still had a towel tied around my hips from the shower I had, and realised my pack with clean clothes in was in the car. Max was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, because he was a little less hygienic than I, but I guess he was just being practical. But there was no way he was gonna get laid with his clothes smelling like they did.

“Can you grab my pack from the car, Max?” I asked him as he walked toward the door.

“Do you want anything else?” He opened the door a little, waiting for me to respond.

“Uhhh, yeah. A can of Coca-cola please,” I used my manors, I was being extra nice to Max today. He disappeared from the room, leaving me alone in the room. I walked into the bathroom, looking in the small, generic bathroom mirror, with the little generic light above it. Everything about this room was generic, it irritated me. I ran my fingers through my hair, and shook my head. I felt like going for the sex hair look today, so I spritzed a bit of Max’s hairspray on my hair. I felt better today, fresher, cleaner. I was up for a good half a day making our way to Atlantic City, then maybe looking around, being eccentric tourists, then when nigh falls, there will be no stopping us...

I head Max come through the door again, so I glanced once more in the mirror and walked out into the main room to grab my pack. Max threw me my can, and I cracked it open as soon as it hit my palm, chugging the whole thing in a couple of seconds, exhaling heavily and throwing it into the trash can across the room.

I opened my pack, picking out a white t-shirt and my black and purple board shorts, and my black flip flops to be a complete tourist today. And how could I forget, my white rimmed sunglasses. I went to go change, and just as I was about to drop my towel in the bathroom, I heard Max go outside.

“Max?” I called.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m smoking, outside!” He replied. I don’t remember him having cigarettes...I made a face, pulling my shorts on.

“Where’d you get cigarettes from?” I asked.

“Some guy gave ‘em me when I was at the car for free.” He paused. “They taste good.”

I suddenly panicked.

“Max they could have anything in them. They could have the fucking rape drug in them or anything!” While saying this, I tore my t-shirt on and raced outside, inhaling the smoke emerging from Max and his cigarette. The smoke smelled fine. He took the cigarette out of his mouth.

“Want some?” He offered, holding it out to me. I hesitated. “Come on, I’m not collapsing or dying,”

It was against my better judgement, but I took the cigarette from him anyway, taking a drag. The smoke swelled and swirled around in my throat as I breathed it into my lungs. Seemed fine to me, just like any other cigarette.

“Have that, and I’ll smoke this one,” Max held up another and I nodded, taking another drag, longer this time, feeling loads more relaxed than I already was.

“Right, are we ready to go? I asked, blowing a puff of smoke out of my mouth like a dragon.

“Let me just change my t-shirt and we can hand our keys into the scary receptionist guy and we should be in Atlantic city for 12:30pm,” Max smiled, He knew what he was doing. I stopped dead, having a brain wave.

“Hey Max, d’ya know what we should do? We should actually walk in to the cabin to hand our keys in, like, with our arms around each other, pretending to be a couple,” I giggled, the smile on Max’s face grew bigger.

“Let’s do it,” He said, high fiving me and going back into the room, changing into a black Iron Maiden t -shirt and some black Rolling stones flip flops, keeping his shorts on, and gestured me into the room once he’d changed.

“Grab your pack, my friend. Let’s go pretend to be gay!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together in the most camp way imaginable.