DAY 1
| Assumption | Reality | |
| 5:55 AM | I am sleeping soundly in my bedroom while my bruised but ever-loyal chambermaid Paolo plays panflute softly in the corner. | I exhaustedly try to mash both my luggage and myself into a 10 passenger van which is already carrying 11 people. |
| 5:58 AM | I snort and roll over in my bed. I kick at my satin sheets. They get a little too warm sometimes. | Three tired and already sweaty guys curse at me as I climb over them to get to my half-a-seat by the window. I also start to get sweaty. |
| 6:01 AM | Paolo pulls out a photo of his family in Guatemala and begins to weep. As soon as the panflute music stops, I wake and chastise him. He'll be getting half-rations this week. | The van rumbles slowly to a start as I continue to try to find a comfortable way to sit. I'm wedged painfully in the corner of the van between the wheel well and someone's pointy backpack. Why is their backpack so damn pointy? |
| 6:15 AM | A ray of light peers into my window in between the silken curtains. Paolo draws them quietly. | My ass has already fallen asleep. 7 hours to go. |
| 6:57 AM | I am asleep and blissfully unaware of the world. | My head is bent sideways like I'm being hung from a noose as I try to nap. The van hits a large pothole and bounces my face hard into the window. I bang my nose leaving a smear on the glass. My eyes well up from the impact a moistness on my chest informs me that I've been drooling profusely onto my shirt. I try to rub it off but all I do is make the wet spot bigger. 6 and a half hours to go. |
| 7:49 AM | I stir in my bed. The butler, Pendleton, brushes roughly past Paolo into my bedroom. He holds two pictures up before me. I point lazily at the picture with ham and cheese biscuits with sausage. Breakfast will be ham and cheese biscuits with sausage. | The van pulls over to make its first pit stop at a rest station. There is a junkie twitching under a gum-covered park bench. We pile out of the van and shamble like a hoard of zombies inside to the food court. After waiting in line for 24 minutes I order a McGriddle. The lady informs me that they are out of McGriddles. I curse loudly. The woman brandishes a knife. We are kicked out of the rest area. 5 hours and forty-five minutes to go. |
| 8:22 AM | Pendleton brings in my breakfast on a silver platter. Paolo props me up carefully in bed on my large, down pillows. Pendleton puts the tray next to the bed, takes off his white gloves, and feeds me my breakfast. Paolo waits eagerly for the scraps. | My balls are sweaty and I am so uncomfortable that I am on the verge of tears. My stomach growls loudly. I look in my backpack for my book. Apparently, I have forgotten my book. 5 hours and 10 minutes to go. |
| 9:05 AM | After breakfast, Paolo lifts me from my bed and carries me into the bathroom. He feels weak and struggles at this task as he has not yet had breakfast; there were no scraps. I assure him that I will leave him something at lunch time. Paolo lays me down and calls in Brenda. She brings with her the tools she needs to adminster my morning sponge bath. Paolo leaves the bathroom but waits just outside the door in case he is called. | I'm staring at my shoes. The guy beside me has fallen asleep on my shoulder. In his sleep he mutters threats. I'm not sure if they're directed at me. 4 and a half hours to go. |
| 10:31 AM | After a thorough sponge bathing, Brenda dresses me. Once I am satisfied, Pendleton comes and escourts me out into the courtyard where a limosine is waiting to take me to my jet. There are 3 scantily clad women waiting in the limosine, all weilding various brands and flavors of champagne. I climb into the car and request that the driver take his time getting to the airport. | I must have fallen asleep, finally. I wake and rub my eyes. I look out the window to look for a roadsign to see how far we've gone. I hear a grumble from my lap. The guy who had fallen asleep on my shoulder now has his head resting peacefully on my groin. I'm at a loss as to what to do. 3 hours to go. |
| 10:32 AM | The girls begin to pop the champagne bottles and pour the contents into golden chalices. | I poke the guy in my lap in the ear to try to get him to wake up. It doesn't work. 2 hours and fifty nine minutes to go. |
| 11:48 AM | We arrive at the airport. I am very exhausted from the ride. The girls and I have been playing twister on the rollout mat and I am the indisputed champion with zero losses and five wins. The driver opens the door and I step out into the bright sun. I see a fleet of other limosines parked in formation on the tarmac. Glee Club guys are filing onto the nearby jet while their various servants lug heavy designer bags to stow them in the plane's underbelly. I bid the girls farewell and join my friends on the plane. | The guy is still asleep in my lap. Someone's tux bag has shifted so it is pushing against my seatbelt, strangling me. Two guys are bickering in the seat in front of me about the finer points of shotgunning Natural Light. 1 hour and forty minutes to go. |
| 12:02 PM | The plane begins to taxi to the runway. A stewardess in pumps and a white miniskirt hands me a tumbler with Scotch. She says "Good afternoon, Patrick." and gives me a wink between large fake eyelashes. I am sitting in a large overstuffed chair with my legs stretched out in front of me. I'm a little disappointed we couldn't take a helicopter, but I guess a plane will be fine too. | I look at the seatbelt next to me and wonder how hard it would be to asphyxiate myself with it. I pull out my phone to do some Google research. My phone is out of batteries.1 hour and thirty minutes to go. |
| 12:58 PM | The plane touches down in Newark. 20 teams of muscled men are waiting with palankeens to carry us into the city. | We're stuck in the Holland Tunnel in traffic so thick that I'm convinced that this is where I'm going to die. I'm desperately trying to suppress a panic attack when I twitch involuntarily and jostle the guy in my lap awake. He sits up but seems unfazed by the fact that his head had been in my crotch. He asks, "are we there, yet?" I've now broadened my plans to murder-suicide. 30 minutes to go. |
| 2 PM | The palankeens are very comfortable and the men carrying us are able to navigate through foot traffic to avoid the huge lines of traffic waiting to get into Manhattan. | We're out of the tunnel, but still stuck in an absurd amount of traffic. We aren't sure where to park. I have no idea how much longer this journey through hell will last. ? minutes to go. |
| 2:33 PM | The men take us and our luggage straight to our very tall hotel. The hostess of the hotel gives us our room keys and has the bell hops take our things up to our respective rooms. One of the muscled men sweeps me up like a new bride and carries me the 24 flights of stairs to my room. Sure, it might be a little gay, but what am I going to do, take the elevator like a poor? | Mercifully, we've found a parking garage. The rates are exorbitantly high, but we don't care because all we want to do is get out of this vehicle of misery. The attendant of the garage takes the keys to the van and drive-smashes it haphazardly in between 4 other cars. In hindsight we wish we would have bought renters insurance. |
| 2:45 PM | The hotel room is opulent beyond compare. The wall between the kitchen and the bedroom is a fishtank filled with exotic salt-water fish, the floor is made of alternating blocks of black granite and ivory, and I'll eventually discover that the bathtub comes complete with a complementary mermaid. | We pull our bags and wrinkled tuxes out of the van and begin to walk through the filthy street toward our hotel. |
| 3:35 PM | A call interrupts my conversation with the Mermaid. It is an invitation for the group and I to go to a meet and greet at the Mayor's office. I reluctantly accept and tell the Mermaid that I'd be back later that evening. I call down to the lobby for someone to come carry me down the stairs. | After a long journey of dodging street performers and stumbling alcoholics, we arrive at our lodging: A crumbling Best Western hotel. Screams can be heard coming from within. Some of the lights are burnt out in the sign, so it reads: B s We te n. |
| 4:01 PM | The hostess had offered to call for us transportation to the Mayor's office, but we decide that we'd rather walk and see what New York City is like for ourselves. | After quickly dropping off our bags, we hurry back out of the fleebag hotel for fear of catching something or getting murdered. We have some time to burn, so we decide to wander around the city. |
| 4:28 PM | We are starting to get recognized on the street. People are stopping and staring and asking for autographs. We each pull out a stack of black and white headshots that we keep with us at all times and begin to sign them. | There are so many people pushing past us that it's hard to stay as a group. We begin to get separated. |
| 5:14 | Drawn by the crowd, Kanye West comes over and says hello to me. I return the hello and we speak self-congradutorily regarding our personal successes and burgeoning careers. | A black homeless man with leaves in his hair comes over to me and stabs me in the stomach with the sharpened end of a toothbrush. I crumple to the ground and pass out from the pain. |
...
I think by now you must understand the discrepancy that I'm trying to portray.
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My wound still hasn't healed yet. If you have any information about the incident, please report it to the NAAESG(National Association for the Advancement of the Ending of Stabbing of Ginger People). Thank you.
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