In A Fix On Route 66

My eyes popped open.  My thoughts were scrambling to piece together my previous night and how it may have landed me in a stranger’s bed.  I then realized I was in a hotel room in Phoenix and my behavior had been that of a Sunday school teacher.  Well, unless we are going to take off points for gluttony, in which case I would shove the empty pizza box and two liter bottle of Diet Mt. Dew under the bed.  Twenty minutes later my best friend Bill and I were packed, checked-out, and hailing the company mini van from valet.  We made our way down the highway to Scottsdale where we wrapped up the business needs at Neiman Marcus and Barney’s New York.  To celebrate a thirty minute inventory job well done and our ability to count past ten we decided to blow some cash at the local H&M store.  I can never walk into this store, in any city, and leave with less than what would fill up a Scion.  This trip the sales associates managed to stuff all of our purchases into two giant trash bags which would make for easier traveling back to Las Vegas.  Famished from our busy but productive morning Bill and I decided to Ace Ventura the mini van into a parking space directly in front of a Chinese buffet.  We ate til our hearts were content and our acid reflux levels had us levitating a few inches off the ground.  Naturally, I forgot to pack my iPod, music CDs, and car charger for my phone.  As a result 45 minutes later we were in the middle of Podunk, Arizona with a garbled Latino Polka radio station and no operable cell phones to entertain us.  I made use of my time by napping.  I believe Bill may have also napped and set the van to auto pilot.  Wow, technology these days!  When I awoke for the third time that day I was met with nightfall and a sign that went whizzing by my window that said “Welcome to San Bernardino County California.”  I knew this was wrong.  Bill had missed his turn and our mini van wasn’t smart enough to know the difference.  After a two hour detour and a long conversation with a woman who was once a stylist for Lucille Ball but now serves coffee for patrons of Route 66 we finally ended up back in Las Vegas.  All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and watch television but my party friends weren’t trying to hear of such a maniacal plan.  I continued the evening by bar hopping, white girl dancing, consuming copious amounts of vodka, and hurling venomous slurs at whoever’s face I didn’t like.  Needless to say I was finally able to get some sleep in my own bed as of 4AM Sunday morning.