Chapter 19 10:45PM
Gretchen spied Delmar making an exit toward the pool tables. Pretending she needed to put away a high ball she had been drying for over five minutes, she sauntered over as Reid was getting off the stool.
Going somewhere?
Specifically somewhere. I really need to go rest in your lav.
Gretchen laughed.
Wear your shoes.
Sores, once slightly scabbed, re-opened as Reid forced Timberlands onto his feet. He worked his way through the World Cup crowd, flicking the switch on as he entered the Tiki water closet. Once his pupils dilated to allow in enough light for recognition, the toilet shone to the left. Shone sounded like moonlight tractor-beamed on the throne as if Jesus dropped off kids here. Further light shined in so Reid could see the place was so filthy it was beneficial to leave the light off. Reid slapped the switch back to “OFF” and slid over to the toilet. Slid wouldn’t be the best terminology for it was impossible to slide on this floor. The black and formerly white tiles were tourist tacked, making Reid thankful he still had enough wits about him to heed Gretchen’s advice. Being slightly allergic to hops was now a major benefit. The beer had effectively plugged his nose up just enough so he couldn’t smell the entire stench. A slight whiff raped his nostrils. Reid finished his business as fast as he could.
Hip met sink as he turned. Most often, Reid made sure to wash his hands. In here, Hell with a plunger, Reid’s slight Mysophobia swayed to the terror of unkempt bathroom fixtures. Significantly freaked, Reid gave up any thought of clean hands, figuring he’d get worse germs touching the sink than he ever could touching himself.
Reid got back to his customary seat at the bar. Gretchen strolled over and smiled upon seeing Reid’s suddenly more sober face.
How was it?
Rest stops long forgotten by everyone except for joy riding teenagers and Jason Voorhies on 65 through Indiana are cleaner. That was… the worst. Thanks for the warning. If there would have been a freak cold snap I would have been piss-glued to the floor.
flickr. creative commons license. Axel Buhrmann.
Wow. It’s a good thing Delmar cleaned it up for the World Cuppers. Yesterday it was far worse.
World Cuppers were moshing, giving each other blotchy puffy faces whacking each other down to the floor, or smashing foreheads together. Exposing asses to those prone, the scene made a mark on the plus side for temporary blindness.
Why?
Gretchen laughed as she continued to serve, leaving Reid alone on his stool watching the Inebriation Olympics.
Chapter 20 10:50PM
You much of a traveler?
Reid had no more than ten seconds to himself before being megaphoned in his ear. He steadied himself putting his right hand on the bar, gripping the counter.
Well?
Give me a chance to stop my fucking ears from ringing. Do you have to shout?
Just fucking with you, bud. Much of a traveler?
I’m here, aren’t I?
Don’t need to get all smart-assy on me now. I’m just asking.
Reid’s attitude meter went back to the good side as Delmar’s decibels died down.
Guess so.
Where you been?
Anywhere I find interesting.
What, is it top-secret information?
No. Sorry. LA, San Francisco, Dallas, Aspen, Boulder, Atlanta, Boston, New York, Pittsburgh.
Reid stopped. Delmar looked at his watch. Leaning over, he looked straight into Reid’s eyes. Read the rest of this page »
Exactly want was it you found so fucking interesting in Pittsburgh?
