The Hangover: Part III

To get to the Brooklyn Bridge Pedestrian Walk from the Manhattan side of the bridge, the foursome had to backtrack a few blocks to get to the entrance at City Hall. They didn't bother wasting time taking in the scenery the view from the bridge offered them as they were on a mission to get their friends back. Alan became distracted a few times by the fact that traffic was roaring below but otherwise kept up. Their pace was fast even though they were considerably exhausted. The guys especially. They'd been jetlagged from their flight into New York only to stay up all night, not get to bed till God knows how long after arriving back to the hotel at six in the morning the next day, only to wake up at eleven, then spend a good portion of the day walking around the city, getting beat up, going into anaphylactic shock, getting attacked by a macaw, losing their clothes. They were physically and mentally exhausted. But they were that much closer to figuring out what happened to Doug and Amanda.

As they neared the exit to the Pedestrian Walk, Sam's sister's phone rang and she answered it. "Hello?" It was her mother and she hoped that maybe Amanda had gotten home or had found a way to call home from wherever she was. Stu turned around to look at her and look for a hint that that's exactly what had happened. However, Sam's face fell. "We're going to stay in the city. Yes. Yes, I know this is all last minute."

Apparently Amanda was still out there somewhere like Doug. Stu and Phil looked at each other and frowned.

"Amanda and I are going to dinner soon and then to catch a musical. Which one?" she said, clearly repeating whatever her mother had asked. She made a face. "Uh...Rock of Ages." She had just seen a billboard for it earlier that day and it was the first show she could think of. "After that? We're gonna head back to the hotel we stayed at last night and go to bed so we can be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning." Sam sighed. "Yes, mom. Your princess will be on time to her wedding." She rolled her eyes and clenched her teeth. "I keep answering because you keep calling. I dropped my phone and it broke that's why you can't get a hold of me through my phone. Yes...mom..."

Sam didn't even say goodbye. She just growled under her breath hung up the phone mid sentence. Phil placed a hand on the small of her back and gave a reassuring rub.

"I feel like I'm thirteen again instead of thirty-three everytime I talk to her."

"Parents can be douchebags sometimes," Phil remarked. Pointing to himself, "Look at me. I'm a father and I can be a douchebag. I recognize this."

Sam laughed a little. His comment made her feel a little better. "I'm really just worried about Amanda. If I have her purse and phone, she has to have my purse and phone. It wasn't in the hotel suite. I don't know why she hasn't tried calling me or anyone else with my phone. I charged it last night before we went out for dinner so it should have enough life to it. I hope." Her brow creased with worry lines. "What if something happened to her, something serious? What if she's dead in a gutter somewhere? What if she went to catch a train back to Long Island and someone pushed her off the platform in front of an oncoming train and there was nothing left of her to recognize?"

"Okay, I doubt any of that happened. Maybe she's stuck somewhere that has bad reception and can't get any service with your phone. Maybe your purse was stolen from her and she's just stranded somewhere. Maybe she's with Doug."

"But she was with us when we got back this morning, Doug wasn't. How can she be with him?"

Phil shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a thought." For whatever reason, that thought sounded very plausible to him. "Try not to think of anything bad. We'll find them both." He brought his hand up from the small of her back and up to her shoulder opposite from him, giving it a squeeze as he pulled her into a sort of side hug.

Finally the foursome stepped off the Pedestrian Walk via the underpass on Washington Street. They were officially in Brooklyn now, but had to swing back around, street level, toward the water's edge. It took a few more minutes of walking up Washington Street before they came to the very end of the road; the dead end looking upon Empire-Fulton Ferry State Park. The entrance in front of them seemed more family-oriented, complete with a children's playground. If they turned onto Plymouth Street on the left, it led to an adjacent section of the park which was void of anything but grass and a couple small trees, and situated beside the base of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Do you see any bums over here?" Stu asked. "I don't see any bums."

"It's still early," Phil replied. "Maybe they wait till dark to huddle over here so they're not noticeable by cops driving around or something."

"Let's go in that way," Sam pointed to the left side of the park.

As they made their way into the entrance of the other section of Empire-Fulton Ferry State Park, the foursome took note of a few evening joggers along the footpath and two guys playing frisbee closer to the edge of the water. Shortly thereafter, the joggers disappeared out of the park and even the frisbee guys packed up and left out the Old Dock Street entrance to the park. It seemed to be only Stu, Phil, Sam and Alan there now.

"So, do we just wait here?" Stu asked, looking over at Sam. "Do the bums crawl out from under the rocks when the sun sets behind the buildings?"

His voice was filled with slight derision which Sam frowned at. "I don't know, Stu."

As they found a bench to sit on, they all just stared out. Stu was right. This was starting to feel more like a wild goose chase. Phil remained standing however, resting his hands, clasped together, on the top of his head, trying to think of possible solutions when he spotted a group of shabby looking men hopping over a fence at the end of the park next to the base of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"I think I found our bums," he announced. He began to walk forward so the others stood up and followed behind him. "Hey!" he called out. "Excuse me, we were wondering if any of you could hel―"

THWACK!

Phil dropped suddenly to his hands and knees in pain as a wild-eyed, soiled man in his mid to late sixties appeared seemingly out of nowhere, swinging a crooked golf club. He spun around and immediately whacked the club into Alan's face then turned to swing at Sam. She ducked only for a surprised Stu to get hit in the neck. All three men were down and trying to find their ways back up to their feet as the crazy man dropped the golf club and lunged at Sam. He grabbed her by the shoulders and got right in her face, his breath absolutely putrid.

"Die, Charlie, die!" he shouted in a gruff and angry voice, giving Sam a rough shove backwards. She lost her footing and her calves hit against Stu's side, causing her to fly back and flip over him, falling to the ground beside him with a heavy thud, momentarily knocking the air out of her lungs.

"Ow," she whined.

"Chill the fuck out, man!" Phil growled up at the crazy guy, kneeling and holding his hands up in slight surrender.

"Who's Charlie?" Alan was questioning, as he crawled away before trying to get up to his feet. He spit some blood from his mouth and wiped his lips with his arm. Stu, meanwhile, could barely catch his breath from the force the club had hit his neck. He slumped to his side and rolled onto his back to lay beside Sam on the ground, ready to welcome oblivion at that point.

The crazy guy picked up his crooked golf club again and was about to go for round two with the foursome when one of the bums that had hopped the fence came running up. He looked to be in his early forties and looked surprisingly clean for someone who was homeless. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the bum called out, rushing to the crazy guy's side and grabbing the club out of his hands. "Carl, chillax, man. Stop hitting the people. It's not the war, man. It's over." The bum looked at the foursome, stepping over to help Phil up.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Phil demanded as Stu finally decided to clamor up to his feet, then leaning over to help up Sam. Phil looked over to see Alan still crawling around as if in a daze.

"Sorry about Crazy Carl," the bum apologized. "He gets these flashbacks, thinks he's back in 'Nam or some shit." The bum looked at three behind Phil with a smirk then. "What're you all doing back here? Here for more?" Pointing to Alan, his smirk turned into an appreciative smile. "Thanks for the money by the way. Was able to buy some decent food for all of us. And some booze."

Alan finally stood up, but staggered a bit to the right as if trying to regain his equilibrium. As soon as he looked over at the bum, he shrugged. "You're welcome. Why did I give you money?"

Phil interrupted. "A doctor told us we mentioned being here last night and Alan here got into a fight. He got cut."

The bum nodded. "Yeah, Tubs paid me a hundred bucks to fight him and he punched me good," he responded, touching his fingers to his jaw. "I think I swallowed an old filling."

"Was there another guy with us?" Stu inquired, rubbing his neck gingerly.

"And a blonde woman?" came Sam's interjection.

Phil turned and looked back at her. "We already know that your sister was with us when we got back to the hotel this morning. We need to know when we lost Doug." As an afterthought, he added, "Again."

"Your smaller friend with the dark hair?" Off everyone's nod, the bum continued. "Yeah he kept complaining about being exhausted and you," he pointed at Stu, "were calling him a pussy." Stu frowned a little sheepishly at that. "That's when Tubs asked to pay me to fight him. Then Crazy Carl saw the fight, something snapped in his head again. Thought he was back in the war, I guess. He came at Tubs with a broken bottle and cut him across the chest." The bum pointed to Alan again. "Gave me the shirt off his back afterward even though he had blood all over it. I don't mind though. It's a nice shirt. I can find some stain remover and get it out." The bum opened his jacket to reveal the army green T-shirt with the cartoon chicken on it that Alan had been wearing the night before, except now there was a bloodied rip in it mirroring the same spot on Alan's chest where he'd been cut.

"Did the other guy leave with us?" Sam asked, her hand on her lower back. It was already so sore from falling on it.

Stu ― exhausted, angry, and at wit's end ― placed his hands on his hips and shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe Crazy Carl stabbed him too and threw him in the river."

Alan immediately looked at Stu with a horrified expression. "Don't say that!"

Looking between the foursome, the bum laughed a little. "Don't you remember anything from last night?"

"Not a thing since about nine-thirty last night," Phil answered.

"Your smaller friend left with you. After Tubs got cut, you broke up the fight and I pulled Crazy Carl away," the bum spoke to Phil. "You were mentioning getting him back to the city to a hospital, but first you said you had to make a stop somewhere and put your smaller friend to bed." The last part was directed at Stu.

Stu pointed to himself. "Me? Did I say where we were putting our friend to bed?"

The bum shrugged. "No."

"Awesome. Another dead end."

"What time did we leave here?" Sam stepped forward, still holding her back. Phil saw this and placed his hand over hers, mouthing to her, asking if she was okay. She nodded her reply.

The bum just let out a laugh. "Does it look like I own a watch, sweetheart?" With a shake of his head he walked up to Alan and held his arms out. "Thanks again for the money, Tubs." Alan seemed to forget all about the pain he was in and entered happily into a hug with the bum.

"You're welcome again. Any time."

"You wanna fight again, you know where to find me."

"Okie dokie."

The bum began to walk away and ushered Crazy Carl with him when the older bum looked ready to pounce on the foursome again. They were all left standing there, wondering what the hell just happened while once again trying to process the new information they were given.



Twenty minutes later, they were back on the Brooklyn Bridge Pedestrian Walk, heading back into Manhattan. The sun was starting to set before them and a general sense of hopelessness was starting to set in. Stu and Alan walked side by side while Sam and Phil lagged behind. All four were a sight for sore eyes. They were bruised, bloodied, their clothes were a mess. They looked like they had gone to hell and back and the looks they were getting from other pedestrians walking in the opposite direction only confirmed as much.

Phil looked to his right and could tell by the look on Sam's face that she was completely freaking out under the surface about what might have happened to her sister. She was holding it all in, but the way her lips pursed and her brow furrowed, suggested she was a moment away from an emotional breakdown. Like before, Phil threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for side hug as they walked along.

"So, if I got you an engagement ring at some point last night and I proposed, where's the ring now?" he asked, looking down at her bare left hand.

Sam lifted said hand and shrugged. "Yeah, I kinda wish I had it right now so I could shove it in my parent's face that I can get someone to propose to me. They'd see I'm not gonna be just the old maid sister compared to Amanda who does everything right in their eyes."

"Well, you know, I could be your plus one to your sister's wedding if you'd like. We could tag team your parents with some grand story about our whirlwind love affair," Phil teased.

"If there's a wedding at all. Can't have a wedding if a bride is missing."

"Good point."

Sam stopped walking and looked out at the East River to the right of them, looking upon the Manhattan Bridge and the general view around them. Phil stopped with her, the pair holding on to the railing and letting everything soak in. After a few feet, Stu turned back when he sensed Phil and Sam weren't behind him anymore. Walking up to them, he followed their gaze and looked out at the river. Alan quickly followed suit.

The four of them just stood there; quiet, thinking, and admiring the view.



After they made it across the bridge and back over to Manhattan, they headed toward Broadway to catch the N Line train. Sam had grabbed a map of the different train lines and schedules when they rode the subway earlier in the day, so they now knew the N Line train would bring them back to the Plaza Hotel at the 5th Avenue station.

They figured heading back to the hotel might be a good idea. Maybe Doug and Amanda were back there. Maybe the security office had more footage they could show them.

Sitting side by side, daydreaming, the foursome held their hands to their respective wounds when Phil's cell phone began to ring in his pocket. Pulling it out languidly, his eyes narrowed. He didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Phil..."

The voice was garbled and distant. Phil could barely make it out. His bloodshot blue eyes widened. "Doug?" He leaned forward, plugging his opposite ear with a finger to better hear Doug on the other end of the line. "I can't hear you. You're breaking up. Hello?"

"Where...I'm in...it's..."

Stu, Sam and Alan each looked at Phil as he got only every second, third or fourth word. He couldn't tell.

"I'm in a subway train, Doug. I can't here you."

"...phone..."

"What?"

"...phone...dying..."

"Phone's dying?" That Phil could make out more clearly. "Hey...Doug? You still there?"

All during this difficult conversation, none of them noticed the young man in his late teens sitting across and diagonal to them, eyeing up the purse in Sam's lap. Distracted, they didn't notice him stand up or move at all until his hand grabbed the straps to the purse, yanked it off Sam's lap and ran with it. He took off down the center of the subway car, weaving through other riders. Sam was instantly on her feet.

"Hey!" she shouted. No one other than Stu, Phil and Alan reacted to the thievery. The guys jumped up and followed Sam as she ran after the young thief.

"I'll call you right back, Doug." Phil hung up and pulled the phone away from his ear, holding onto it tightly in his hand as he ran behind the others.

They moved from the current subway car they were in through a door that connected to the second subway car; a momentary gust of wind whipping against them until they were inside. People got pushed out of the way, apologies were quickly muttered. The train came to a slowing stop as they reached the next station. A voice came over the PA system, announcing they were at the Times Square-42nd Street station.

The thief moved through to the next car and out through the opening doors amidst the other passengers getting off at this stop. Sam, Stu, Alan and Phil, in that order, pushed a few people out of their way as they took off after the kid. He wove through the crowd of people waiting to get on the train and then up the stairs to head to street level. So many people were walking down the stairs that the foursome began to get pushed back a little, but they pushed forward to get through.

When they made it to street level, they began to spin around, looking in every direction the teenage thief could've gone, but there were too many people around to spot him.

"Fucking cocksucker!" Sam shouted, throwing her balled up fists down at her sides. A few people looked at her like she were a spastic retard and she just glared back. "What are you looking at?" she antagonized. Phil came up beside her and placed a hand on the back of her head and she let herself whimper. "All my sister's IDs and credit cards were in that purse! Amanda's purse! And her cell phone and my new EpiPen!"

"Be extra careful to steer clear of peanuts this time," Alan warned, as if she was going to take that chance again.

"Gee, ya think?"

Alan frowned. "The teddy bear with the balloon I got you was in that purse, too," he added.

"That's not important now, Alan." Stu spoke, trying to catch his breath. "Let's just walk the rest of the way to the hotel."

They all hesitated for a moment as Sam leaned forward to take off her heels. "My feet are so sore. Fuck these things," she grumbled, throwing them in the nearest trash can and starting to walk barefoot down the sidewalk with the guys.

"You're gonna cut your feet on something," Phil commented, gesturing toward the ground.

"I'm already so down right now, is the world really that cruel that it's going to kick me, too?"

"No," he assured. He then gestured her over to him. "C'mere." She walked up to his side and he crouched down. "Climb on up."

Sam chuckled and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Get outta here. You just got whacked across the back with a golf club by a crazy Vietnam vet bum. I'm not gonna get on your back and cause more pain."

"Sam. Get on my back or I'll throw you over my shoulder." His tone was serious and she just smirked.

"Promise you'll send me your chiropractor's bill," she joked, stepping behind him and throwing her arms around his neck.

Phil placed his hands under her knees and hoisted her up as he stood up straight with Sam holding on for dear life. "Alright. Hotel."

Stu just raised an eyebrow at the pair and shook his head as they began to walk again. "So, was that Doug on the phone?" he asked in regard to the call Phil received on the subway.

"Yeah. But I couldn't make out what he was saying. Either the reception in the subway was bad or his reception was. I think he said something about a phone dying." Phil turned his head a little, catching sight of Sam out the corner of his eye with her chin resting on his shoulder. Their faces were so close his nose brushed her cheek. "Maybe your sister doesn't have your phone but Doug does, 'cause I didn't recognize the number that came across. It had a 303 area code so it came from a Los Angeles phone number."

"I guess," Sam muttered, rather enjoying the piggyback ride. She let her eyes close for a minute. She was tired, but also she was concentrating on the smell of Phil's skin, sweat and very latent hint of cologne. It was a nice mixture. The blood part, however, not so much.

As they walked on through the evening Times Square madness, the foursome fell silent until Alan spoke up with something that he remembered at that moment.

"We forgot about the bird."

Stu turned to Alan and then back ahead of him. "Fuck," he grimaced.