Authors' note: With a couple of exceptions, we don't know who came up with the out-of-context quotes, but we had a LOT of fun with them. This chapter features a lot of opinions on energy drinks and snack foods. You may disagree with them, but you can also mostly blame Darthishtar's personal palate and she likes weird things like habanero sugar cookies and chocolate-dipped jalapeños the size of her hand. In short, use your own judgment before trying some of these at home.
Also, planning road trips - even imaginary ones - is surprisingly therapeutic during a pandemic.
Sam and Leo rolled out Saturday morning, the jerks. Leo had to rub our noses in it, too. A couple of hours after they left, we got a group text from Leo to all three of us. /Dude! One-line Stand Challenge kicks off now. Give us your best overheard quotes of Spring Break, taken out of context, and try to beat this one from Cam: "Well, I thought about whittling a spear and donning a loincloth, but I couldn't find one in my size." ROFL!/
I texted back, /Wait - what? I thought Cam was in the dog house./
/They let him out, but he's on a short leash. He's still not allowed to socialize with you n00bs. Are you in on the challenge or what?/
It was going to be tough, but I had faith in our powers of caffeine, casinos, car games, and out-of-context displays of estrogen. We'd have something hella unusual, even if it wasn't as traumatic to imagine as Cam's search for a budget Tarzan costume. /We're in, and tell Cam we say hi./
Sunday, Sam upped the ante with this one: /(Rae to Mikaela) "Would you go skinny-dipping in that?" (Mikaela) "Would and have. Took a lot of showers afterwards."/
Sharsky and I looked at each other in confusion "Who's Rae?" we asked simultaneously.
"Did Mikaela ever say she was bringing a friend?" Sharsky asked.
"Does she have a sister?" I reflexively added.
Mikaela didn't usually deign to speak to us, much less discuss her social calendar, but I would have figured Leo would mention it if they were gonna double on this road trip. And if there was going to be skinny-dipping involved, that was definitely something he would have mentioned in advance.
"Maybe they made some new friends along the way," Sharksy speculated.
It had taken us two weeks and a near-death experience to really like Sam, so I couldn't imagine they'd meshed with a total rando just a day into whatever long haul they'd embarked on. It wasn't like I was feeling jealous of this Rae, but there was a definite cause for bewilderment. When they sent a pic from the Virginia border, there was no one else there, so maybe Rae had peaced out or gotten weirded out by then. Though-the pic had Sam, Mikaela, Cam and Leo so maybe the mysterious "Rae" was behind the camera.
It was a jerk move for them to document every little thing we were missing out on, but instead of trying to do a deep dive into their covert ops, we mostly calculated the number of t-shirts we'd need, used the very empty laundry room to do them all in a single boring afternoon, and marathoned the Star Trek franchise (original series films only) on the big-screen. After watching 23rd-century space explorers act normally in the 20th century, it got us thinking about road trip etiquette and we rehearsed saying "please" and "thank you" and "pardon me" so much that we might as well have been LARPing Jane Austen.
Monday morning around 10, we finally rolled out, too. I had hoped to slide smoothly into the copilot's seat, but found a CD case, lip gloss, and a bag of pretzels on the front passenger seat. The girls had definitely conspired to settle in as wingmen, but there would be plenty of time to switch things up after bathroom breaks and other necessary stops.
"It's my birthday and I don't even get to pick the music?" I prodded as I climbed into the back seat.
"Birthday boys get chauffeured and serenaded," Lisbeth proclaimed while finding a place for a bag of baby carrots. "You also get first choice of Pringle flavors."
True to her word, Lisbeth did serenade me - with "It's Not My Birthday" by They Might Be Giants.
"Well," I muttered, "It's better than Broadway."
That was all the easy listening Joss could handle and the next several songs were AC/DC. She decided to pander to Lisbeth, though - we all had to make compromises - and we got to hear something about one short day in the Emerald City and a very confusing song about lighting a candle before we got around to something EVERYONE could enjoy: Bohemian Rhapsody.
We all got into it. I was impressively on-pitch for "Mama, just killed a man," while Sharsky and Joss took turns singing "Galileo," but the real star was Lisbeth showing off her collegiate-trained high notes.
All was pretty awesome until we got to the guitar solo and I discovered that I was the odd man out in a very unexpected way.
"Headbanging's just not the same without hair," Sharsky gloated when he'd spasmed hard enough to go cross-eyed. Proud of himself, he whipped out his phone and texted his quip as our first contribution to the One-Line Stand Challenge.
I smacked him upside his Wayne's World-looking hair, but Lisbeth just laughed.
"Sorry, Binder," she called over her shoulder. "I don't have anything by Patrick Stewart for you to monologue along to."
...
Before we made it halfway to Atlantic City, Sam again one-upped us with another text. /Mikaela (to Leo): You - in the back seat./
"No way!" Sharsky shouted.
"What's 'no way?'" Joss asked from the driver's seat. When Joss and Lisbeth switched drivers at the last gas station I had tried to subtly maneuver Sharsky up front but hadn't had any luck.
Still disgruntled, Sharsky answered, "Bossman and Alienboy are sending out-of-context quotes from our Spring Break adventures. Sam just sent one of his girlfriend Mikaela telling Leo to get into the back seat."
"Ew," Joss said.
"Why shouldn't she ride shotgun?" Lisbeth objected, waving her hand about.
"Think it through like a horny teenger, Lis," Joss teased with a laugh.
"Oh. Oooh. How uncomfortable. Get a room." Lisbeth's nose crinkled. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you guys sending our witty words of wisdom out of context too?"
"Um...not yet?" I ventured.
Joss snorted. "Okay - ground rule #1 is you have to ask before you send something that makes us sound like pervs."
"Or anything," Lisbeth amended. "Let's just go with that. Comment is not consent - you have to ASK before quoting us."
While that was a bit of a handicap, I figured we could probably still get some zingers out.
...
Permission was eagerly granted by Lisbeth ten minutes later. /Lisbeth (to the entire car): I've had enough of your bull - both Red and otherwise!/
...
We had just realized that all the Monopoly locations were named after real places in Atlantic City when Sam sent another one. /Rae (to Leo): Isn't there a proverb about if you were the last male on the planet?/
I read it out (spelling out Rae's name to avoid confusion) and, in unison, Joss and Lisbeth asked, "Who's Rae?"
"Slagged if I know," I said in response. "It's another Spring Break mystery they're taunting us with."
"Slagged? What does that even mean?" Joss interrupted.
Surely someone who was versed in gorram and fragging would roll with the unusual slang, but in the interest of car peace, I shrugged nonchalantly, "I dunno. Sam and Leo say it."
We retaliated over lunch at Caesar's with /Lisbeth: No can do, boys. We won't have access to our hotel sheets until tonight. Besides, I don't have the right hardware./ They'd never guess it was about her improvising a woman's version of a toga.
Leo broke character enough to send back, /DAMN!/
…
We were getting checked into the hotel when we received another text.
/Rae (to Leo): It's a perfectly rational linguistic construction that fills an unaddressed lexical gap in the English language. (Cam to Leo) Unlike your butchering of two languages at the same time. You word murderer./
We all looked at each other as Sharsky read it out loud - creating an awkward moment when the front desk attendant was waiting for Lisbeth to hand over her credit card. Lisbeth thought for a moment and then shook her head and said with an evil smile, "They're slipping, total weak sauce." And then produced her credit card.
This from a girl who could probably find something generous to say about Jar-Jar Binks when hard-pressed. This was going to be a VERY interesting trip.
…
Our next zinger came as the girls were shooing us out of their room. "You're not allowed back in until the nachos arrive!" Lisbeth said.
Sharksy whined, "Can I at least send the quote?"
"Fine, whatever," she grumbled and slammed the door. I might have been imagining things, but I could have sworn I heard "LORD, WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTALS BE!" through the wood. The lit nerd inside of me appreciated how exasperating Sharsky had to be for her to break out the Bard.
The Denny's across the parking lot was packed with the dinner crowd, so we hung out with the juice dispenser in the hotel's little lobby. Sulking slightly, Sharsky sent, /Lisbeth (to Sharsky): Do you *want* me locking you up, too? Because you don't want me to go there./
"Let them crack THAT code!" he said.
I snorted. "They'll know it was because you were trying a heist on the mini-fridge."
"Nu-uh! Not in a million years!" he blurted out as if I hadn't caught him reaching for the macadamia nuts and Coke.
"You're not a criminal mastermind, dude," I said in what I hoped was a soothing voice.
"And who is? You?"
"I got a feeling Joss might be, but we'll need to put her to a few tests first."
The tests might be a weird hybrid of War Games, Ocean's 11, and Trivial Pursuit, but we couldn't be on mind-altering substances of any kind. That meant that we couldn't pledge ourselves to her ways until a little of tonight's buzz had worn off.
Killing time in a gift shop was hard enough under normal circumstances, but this was unbearable. The girls were upstairs, getting ready to offer us possibly-hedonistic delights and I was stuck trying to decide which generic postcard was the least boring. Sharsky spent the entire time price-checking things and muttering opinions of the real value of various tchotchkes while an elderly couple mulled over the different snowglobes.
Just after the third time the clerk had pointedly asked us if he could help us make a decision, I got a text from Lisbeth.
Gaudeamus igitur
Iuvenes dum sumus
Post iacundum iuventutem
Post molestam senectutem
Nos habebit humus.
I didn't know much Latin beyond Lorem ipsem, but I recognized a call to adventure when it flashed on my screen. I tapped Sharsky on the shoulder and he immediately dropped the collector's spoon without even waiting for more than a significant look. I had to jog to catch up to him at the elevators.
"Is that Greek for 'Let's get this party started?'" he asked with a slightly-manic giggle that implied he'd snuck something into his bloodstream while I wasn't looking.
"It's Latin for 'Party on, dudes,'" I corrected. "She can't help the Julius Caesar references."
This not being the Plaza, we gave up on the rickety elevator after about ten seconds and took the stairs two at a time. To our surprise, Joss was playing gatekeeper in an outfit that looked more at home at a craps table than a toga party-black pants, white shirt, sparkly bow tie. The only funky thing about her getup was the Kaylee-style buns on top of her head.
"Good evening, gentlemen," she said calmly.
"Salve," Sharsky said enthusiastically. "Do we need a password or something?"
"Mulder sent me?" I quipped.
She almost cracked a smile, but checked a piece of paper. "Are you Mr. Sharsky and Mr. Birthday Boy?"
"If it gets us in, sure," I chuckled. "I believe you are expecting us."
This was a lot of production for a slightly-scuffed hotel door, but this was Lisbeth's brainchild and a bit of stage design was only to be expected. Judging from the hostess, though, I probably couldn't expect her to have improvised a toga.
"Oh, certainly," Joss said. "In fact, I believe you are the guest of honor."
Sharsky took the moment to give me a high-five. I didn't argue with it.
"I'm glad you think so," I said with a bow. "May we please enter?"
After a complicated knocking sequence and a returning tap of fingernails, Joss nodded and unlocked the door. "After you, gentlemen."
I had to admit, I was impressed at first sight. The room wasn't anything to brag about-the best that could be said was that the bedspreads seemed clean-but Lisbeth had dragged the nightstand to the foot of their beds and turned it into an ersatz bar. On either bed, trays full of snacks like Pringles, Cheez-Its, and Nilla Wafers were spread beckoningly. The bottles had been divested of their labels, which left some things up to the imagination, but made the mystery even more exciting than the potential things with which to spike them.
The red Solo cups stood empty, though.
I stopped ogling the drinks long enough to notice Lisbeth, and she was wearing the same uniform as Joss. "Oh. You match."
"One has to be professional," she responded in a slightly Princess-Leiay voice.
Joss ushered us past the bar to the table and chairs on the opposite side of the room. The middle of the table was dominated by a platter of nachos. There were four plates, but I could guess which one was mine since it had a cardboard "Happy Birthday" dunce cap sitting on it, and my ice-filled Solo cup was blue instead of red.
We started divvying up the nachos while we passed around a two-liter of our caffeine warm-up: Pepsi. It wasn't very strong, but with the amount of jalapenos in the nachos, it had more of an invigorating effect than usual. We talked over dinner about how much Googling was involved in the prep and how much first-hand research they'd done. I was lingering over the last of the guacamole when Sharsky made a dismayed sound.
"Um." He was staring at Lisbeth in a way that was bound to get him smacked upside the head. "I think you've got something on your…"
Lisbeth glanced down at the splotch of salsa that was just by the fourth button from the top. "Darn," she muttered. "Well, this is what a change of clothes was invented for."
Their suitcases were wedged into a corner by the door, so I half-rose in my seat with an offer to fetch her something on my lips. And then she unraveled her bowtie and set it to the side, then reached for the top button of her shirt.
The room suddenly got very quiet. Sharsky forgot to eat a chip full of refried beans as she undid her next button. And the next.
Ten seconds later, the Valentine's Day camisole came into view like a Superman unitard under a dress shirt, and I practically fainted. She shimmied out of the white shirt and stretched languidly with a broad grin.
"There, much better," she said. Then she picked up the discarded bow tie beside her and tied it into her hair, giving me a wink.
The only sound that followed was Sharsky crunching into his nacho with agonizing enthusiasm. I broke out of my trance long enough to take my seat again so I could kick him in the shins and wonder if there was air-conditioning in this place. Or maybe a bucket of ice water.
"Joss," Lisbeth said as if she hadn't just been flirting with me (she had been flirting with me, right?). "Mind putting this in my bag?"
Joss obediently returned the shirt to the top of Lisbeth's bag with an off-hand comment about how to get tomato stains out of cotton.
Change the subject. Change the subject. "W-we'll do the dishes," I volunteered a moment later in a possibly overloud voice.
We shoved everything disposable into a handy trash bag that was discreetly placed under the table and strategically moved a chair to block it from view. That was more orderly than most of our pizza nights and I saw Lisbeth nod in approval.
Behind us, the Mos Eisley Cantina music started blaring from the TV, and Joss stood next to it, grinning. The screen indicated it was just a mix-disc CD she'd popped into the DVD player, but it was perfect. It put me in the mood to swig some lum or ask for some mudders' milk.
"Welcome to Ten Forward: Atlantic City edition," Lisbeth announced. Sharsky might have squealed just a little bit. "There's no alcohol or synthehol in these parts, but I think you will be pleasantly surprised by what we can offer in their absence. I am Lisbeth Borg, mistress of this establishment, and I hope you will enjoy your visit with us. Good sir…"
She turned to me with a bottle of what was unmistakably Red Bull and held it out for inspection like I was supposed to come up with a vintage of it.
"Might I offer you the first taste of our finest Toreau Rouge?"
"Oh, most certainly, 'IH chom'," I said to our beautiful bartender, with a little bit of an eager squeak in my voice. "What do you recommend with such a fine selection?"
"I can recommend several additives, depending on your mood," she responded serenely. "Are you feeling whimsical, sensible, or perhaps adventurous?"
I succeeded in keeping my eyes north of her shoulders and arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think we're going to be sensible at all tonight."
"Damn right," Sharsky said. "Hurry up and get some."
Joss made a slightly strangled sound, and her shoulders shook. I had the feeling that if she'd been drinking something, it would have come out her nostrils all over her snazzy bowtie. A moment later, when Lisbeth's attention was on me, I saw our cater-waiter signal to Sharsky, then jab her finger in the direction of the phone, and she mouthed, "Text that!"
I cleared my throat and, focusing on Lisbeth, studied my options for a moment. "As it is my birthday, I think I should mark this advanced age with something whimsical."
"A fine decision," she approved. "A hint of cherry syrup and our smoothest vanilla bean."
Joss immediately retrieved a pint of ice cream and a jar of maraschino cherries from the cooler against the wall. I tried not to raise an eyebrow a la Spock, but this was not something I had expected.
"Stirred, not shaken," Lisbeth added, brandishing a coffee swizzle stick like an admonitory finger. "We don't wish it to lose any of its sparkle."
Somewhere nearby, my phone chimed, but I told myself I would check it later. The mood was already set, after all, and I had a pretty good idea which line Sharsky had contributed to the One Line Stand Challenge.
Half a minute later, when she'd layered the different components into my blue plastic chalice, she extended it on her palm.
"As it is slightly tart in its undertones, you may want to accompany such a drink with a sweeter appetizer," she advised.
"A Nilla wafer?" I proposed.
"This is not sugar-free, so I would advise something with a lower sugar content." She indicated a small bowl of gummy bears I could only assume were sugar free. "You may consume them separately or experiment with them as an additional mix-in, but I warn that the concoction is ideal in its current state. Changes to its consistency are entirely in your hands."
Caffeine, junk food, boss-level geekery, and smooth-talking charm to match Guinan's style. Too awed to speak, I grabbed three gummy bears and popped them in my mouth, letting them sit on my tongue before taking a sip. If nothing else, it would keep my jaw from hanging open.
The syrup hit first and made the bears almost unendurably sweet for a second before the vanilla hit and tempered the whole thing. I only let in a little bit of the Bull itself and let the potion percolate for a few seconds before I swallowed it very slowly.
It fizzed all the way down, just the way I liked it, and the cherry syrup left a slightly cloying aftertaste. I let my eyes drift closed as I breathed slowly, then let myself grin.
"Same for me," Sharsky demanded. "Except I'm checking out how many gummy bears it takes before it forms a crust."
"Fourteen," Joss piped up. At a slightly bewildered look from our barkeep, she grinned slyly. "I had to make sure none of this was dangerous."
"Scientific method," Sharsky said. "I like a girl who does her research."
I finished off the quasi-float with another long sip, then raised the empty glass to the mixologist. "'IwlIj jachjaj" I toasted in Klingon.
"And the same to you," she responded.
My blood wouldn't be screaming for a few more rounds, but it was the right sentiment for tonight.
"I hope you enjoyed that," Joss said. "While Lady Lisbeth is attending to your comrade, would you like a palate cleanser?"
I nodded and she passed over a tic-tac. It tasted slightly like the Bull, but wasn't nearly as satisfying.
"Another?" she offered.
"I think I need a change of pace," I suggested. "Got anything with a bit of salt?"
"Plenty," Joss assured me, "but if that's the road you're on, I'm not sending you back for more Bull."
She said it with such gravity that I nearly shouted, "Surely not!" Instead, Joss nodded towards the Cheez-Its. "If I might, the Extra Toasty will keep you on your toes while your blood sugar level adjusts. Or the Cheddar Jack would be amusing."
"Extra Toasty," I decided. "Sounds like a plan."
She dispensed half a dozen into one of the paper serving bowls and slid it across the nightstand. I crunched through three and enjoyed the crackle of sound over the background noise of Lisbeth's stirring.
"He'll have the Steinsterner next," Joss murmured to Lisbeth.
Lisbeth turned her attention to me. "Certainly, but we're going to buzz responsibly. I've seen five too many productions of Julius Caesar to not beware the Ides of March, so we're going to be checking pulses and allergic reactions after every round."
"And no one's allowed to stab anybody," Sharsky added, "at least until after midnight."
Lisbeth and I gave him a bemused look, and he added, "I Googled 'Ides of March' on our way up."
"But Brutus is an honorable man," Lisbeth quoted.
"Et tu, Brute!" Sharsky said triumphantly.
"Watch your language," Joss teased.
At the end of his literary rope, Sharsky asked, "Which one?"
Joss grinned. "English, Spanglish, Qenya, Klingon, and whatever fandom 'slag' comes from."
Shaking my head at their mutual insanity, I turned back to Lisbeth. "But it's my birthday. I'm not even old enough to really drink. I need my thrills however I can get them, and caffeine hardly even counts."
Caffeine was more like a Vitamin D supplement than a controlled substance and, though Lisbeth wouldn't get it, Joss just might. It was possible I could even sneak something while Lisbeth's back was turned.
"And if you want to live long enough to be legal, you'll follow my rules. Enough caffeine will stop your heart," Lisbeth insisted. "And I'm not staying at an ER tonight. I paid dearly for this room." I gave a pout. She sighed dramatically and covered her face, then shook her head. Her entire demeanor changed from Mom to mamacita.
She leaned forward and traced the back of my hand with her fingertips. Was this the pulse check? "We don't want the night to end too early, do we?"
"Uh…" The answer was simple, but it took me a second to come up with it. "We don't?"
"We've got all night to make this live up to your wildest carbonated dreams," she purred, withdrawing her hand. "The good-looking customers are always right. I believe you asked for a Steinsterner?"
That mocktail turned out to have Rock Star as its base, poured over ice and a lemon wedge, which was definitely a worthy afterthought to the Cheez-Its. The salt of the cracker was completely forgotten by the time the sourness hit my soft palate.
"Still Alive" from Portal came on. Lisbeth giggled in what sounded like relief. Sharsky and Joss started singing along, jittery Jesus look-alike in a tone-deaf growl and Wheaton a slightly nightclub-singer version of GLADOS.
This was a triumph.
I'm making a note here:
HUGE SUCCESS.
It's hard to overstate
My satisfaction.
"What are you in the mood for now?" Lisbeth asked after I had finished off the Steinsterner.
I shrugged, ignoring the off-key singing, "Surprise me," which, to be honest she had already done in multiple ways. She smiled, consulted an index card, and poured me something new.
"Palate-cleanser first," she said, handing me two Nilla wafers as the singing continued in the background.
There is research to be done
On the people who are
Still alive.
And believe me I am still alive
I'm doing science and I'm still alive
After I finished off the cookies, which nicely cleared the sour aftertaste from the Rock Star, she handed me a cup of something that turned out to be a shot of nothing but Monster.
"Can I buy you a drink?" I offered, realizing that she had yet to eat or drink anything since finishing nachos.
"That's very kind of you," Lisbeth said. "I'll pour an ale and toast your dubious good health."
She poured two fingers of ginger ale into each of our cups. "What about you two?" she asked as the track, thankfully, switched and we stopped being serenaded.
Sharsky was making eyes at the next round of Bull while Joss added something from an unmarked bottle that hadn't been in the original lineup. "Whoops," he said. "Busted."
"It's harmless," Joss reasoned. "It's lime...sort of. And Italian."
Lisbeth delicately plucked the bottle from her fingers. "And unsanctioned. Not for public consumption."
"Aw," Sharsky protested. "You could have some, too," he added to Lisbeth.
"It looks fun, friends, but I'm the designated driver here, and no way am I seeing what this place looks like when I'm too fizzy to function."
Joss gave my counterpart a roguish wink. "After the kids go to bed," she promised.
There wasn't a hint of flirtation in her voice, but there was a sly grin just waiting to happen and Sharsky perked up in a way that had nothing to do with the three drinks he'd already downed. "Oh, hell, yeah."
Lisbeth cleared her throat. "I was saying that we're about to have a group toast. Why don't you join us?"
Once we were all in possession of the mild stuff, Lisbeth raised her Solo cup. "Slainte."
"Birthday happiness to you I wish, hmmmm," Joss imitated Yoda. Lisbeth snorted.
"Live long and prosper," Sharsky lifted his cup.
Grinning, I added, "L'chaim," and earned a winning smile from Lisbeth.
We all tapped our cups together and then drank.
Sharsky drained his ginger ale and grimaced. "Gross. Where's the cherry syrup?"
...
Like good guests and unlikely busboys, we helped clean up. For Sharsky, it meant the chance to sneak a few more layers of gummy bears and slip some of the unsanctioned stuff to Joss, but I'd been raised to not make the cooks clean up my mess.
"Let's get you home," Lisbeth suggested as I regretfully added my blue Solo cup to the trash bag.
"Mellie, I ain't so very drunk," I muttered in my best Gone With the Wind drawl.
"I'm sure you can still bounce home on your own two feet," she said, "but I'm not taking chances on Sharsky wandering off and looting something."
I thought of his hyper state and the one place he could locate around here: the gift shop. I didn't think he was buzzed enough to break anything, but he had some spending money and a whole shelf of snowglobes. He might have nothing left for food if I didn't get him tucked in. Or strapped to the bed.
"Reasonable point," I conceded.
If I were feeling really adventurous, I would have offered my arm, but it seemed more chivalrous to take care of another issue. As soon as we got outside, I shucked my jacket and draped it over Lisbeth's shoulders.
"You're not dressed for this weather," I explained, probably unnecessarily. Besides, all cheesy romantic movies had a scene like this and now that we'd straightened out the matter of my sexuality, I was eager to keep things going on the correct path.
"Thanks, Binder," she said.
She didn't exactly sniff dreamily at the collar, but she tugged it closer around her shoulders. That was worth the unfortunate amount of skin that was now covered.
She must have read my mind or caught on to how much work I'd put into not ogling over the last couple of hours, because she glanced in curiosity at her still-visible decolletage.
"You're reacting differently this time to my shirt."
In the interest of honesty, I didn't try to come up with anything witty to say. "I was trying to be polite last time."
"Ah. A polite college guy," she mused, stroking her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes glinted as she fought a smile. "No wonder I got confused."
A moment later, I heard the text alert indicating that something had just been added to our challenge entries. Honestly, I didn't mind that much. I was on enough caffeine that even the wind sounded slightly squeaky and a hot girl was snuggling under my jacket like we were in an 80's movie. I was feeling pretty gorram good.
Tragically, the parking lot was small and it didn't take much effort to find our room key. Joss went in first, practically dragging her giddy sack of potatoes to the bed before releasing his arm. He face-planted on the mattress and gave a feeble sort of giggle.
"Enjoy," she chirped cheerfully.
And then she pulled the door shut, handing the key back to me, and swaggered back across the parking lot.
And there we were. Two red-blooded Americans with a few hundred grams of legal mind-altering substances in our veins. And, for the first time in a significant while, we were on our own.
I found myself getting as red as my Bull and hoped it wasn't creeping up my neck yet. At a loss for something to say, I said, "This was a hell of a lot of fun."
"I'm glad," she said in perfect earnestness. "It's my top priority to make this a happy, if not entirely level-headed, birthday."
"Mission accomplished," I assured her.
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned in. The flush definitely headed for my ears, but at this range, she wouldn't notice it as much.
"QoSlIj DatIvjaj," she whispered in such flawless Klingon that I knew she'd gotten coaching.
I came very close to kissing her senseless. Being wished a happy birthday in a fandom language was as sexy as "I happen to like nice men." But I was silly, not stupid, and I wasn't going near those lips without her explicit say-so.
Her face approached mine. Was she? My heart pounded.
And then she closed the gap and her lips met my cheek. I froze in surprise, my caffeinated brain going a million different directions at once. This blew us past "friend zone." Would she laugh at me if I punched the air? Was this an invitation for more? Should I kiss her on the lips? Would I get slapped for going too far? That would ruin a perfectly awesome birthday.
"That okay?" Lisbeth asked and then continued with a fake deep British voice. "No 'Gross, I doth not consent to such forward behavior in a woman' kind of thing?" Her cheeks flushed red, though I couldn't tell if it was from the cold, or the kiss, or what.
"Total opposite of gross." I reassured her, trying to think of something more intelligent to say than that, but I had just gotten a little bit of a caffeine crash and my brain had stopped understanding flirting in any language. "If you like, I would be open to reciprocating such forwardness."
Da hell did I just say? It was like I was doing a Mad Libs with Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.
She didn't look exactly revolted, but the next thing that met my cheek was a hand at definitely-not-slap velocity. She patted it in a friendly, "what a good boy you are" way. "I don't think either of us would be able to stop it there."
I pulled back against my better judgment and stared at my feet for something else to do. It was then that I got really confused.
"When did that get here?"
Lisbeth glanced at the two-liter bottle of root beer. "It's Sharksy-style naloxone, in case he ODed." We both turned to see Joss beating a hasty retreat and let out simultaneous awkward laughs. "Thanks for the discretion, Joss!" Lisbeth called after her.
I turned back and was momentarily distracted by how nice her lips looked when smiling. And how nice they felt when doing more romantic things. I had to get out of there before I started trying to talk her into a few experiments.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow," I said, ignoring the Shakespearean constraints of the day.
She grabbed my hand and brought it to her lips with a now-playful smile. "Good night, dear Nadipati."
Without another word, she turned and headed back to her room. I politely waited until she had entered and closed the door before whooping and punching the air.
...
The next morning over breakfast at Denny's, I caught Sharsky adding a little Red Bull to his drink. Leaning over to my lady love, I said, "Watch your glass, Lisbeth. They're spiking the orange juice."
Chuckling, she took my phone and added that as a contribution to the text challenge.
I couldn't resist sending Sharsky's line of, "You totally fulfilled our fantasies last night."
"Yeah, we did," Joss crowed, toasting us with her Bulled O.J.
"And in thanks," I added, "today is entirely ladies' choice!"
The said ladies looked over the list of potential attractions, and Joss pointed to the Ripley's Believe It Or Not Odditorium. "Hey Sharsky, look! They named it after you."
He jauntily grinned. "Aw, thanks, babe."
Morbid curiosity carried the day, and the girls chose to drag us to Ripley's.
On our way there, Sam sent us all a text. /Rae: "My 'gear' is not something that can be acquired at a seasonal sale at Walmart."/
"Looks like the rando's still with them," Sharsky observed.
"Ten to one, she was talking to Leo," I added.
"Gotta wonder if a slap accompanied that," Lisbeth said.
The Odditorium lived up to its name, and one of the displays left us at a loss for words. It was a spider made out of scissors and knives. Finally, I took out my phone, snapped a photo, and sent it to the group text with the comment, /Tell Cam I found his missing pet./
Two seconds later, Sam texted us back. /GAH!/
Sharsky smirked and texted, /Is that a forfeit?/
Leo replied quickly, /Some things just aren't funny. But we will still conquer!/
...
On Wednesday Joss and Lisbeth yielded the choice of activities to us and Sharsky eagerly piped up, proposing a Zombie Scavenger Hunt. The girls hadn't heard of that game (neither had I, but I wasn't about to say so), but both Joss and Lisbeth seemed enthusiastic. The website's rules required splitting into teams so Sharsky and Joss teamed up, leaving me and Lisbeth together.
"You two seem perfectly matched," Joss said by way of explanation.
"And you might just meet your match," I shot back.
As we prepared to go in different directions, Sharsky boasted, "We'll run circles around you, old man!"
"I'm older than you!" I retorted.
"Yeah, that's the point of calling you 'old man'" Sharsky said with a Spock-esque raised eyebrow.
I let Lisbeth take charge because she was way more organized than I was, though I piped up with some suggestions that she, I am proud to say, thought were brilliant.
But where I really impressed her was the random trivia. The fact that I knew minks were part of the weasel family won us a virtual 12-gauge shotgun. It would have been useless however without Lisbeth's win of an ammo cache from knowing that most calico cats were female. We made a pretty awesome team.
Joss gained some swag and swaggered a bit when she accurately distinguished between types of cannibalism. But the in-game tactical flashlight that answer won her wasn't as useful, and together, Lisbeth and I slaughtered both the zombies and the competition.
After a hard day of evading and outwitting zombies, we'd worked up an appetite and I voted for Five Guys.
"Eating slabs of meat after a massacre is like getting sushi after Finding Nemo," Lisbeth objected.
"Fine," I said, "let's compromise and go back to Denny's. You can have your salad, and I can have my rare steak."
As we were making our way to the diner I received a text from Leo-not in the One-Line Challenge group text.
It was a picture showing Sam, Leo, Mikaela and Cam at dusk in Times Square in front of signs for Mamma Mia! and West Side Story with the message /Tell Lisbeth that we go to better places. She should come with us next time./
I scowled but showed Lisbeth the picture anyway. She laughed and said, "Times Square would be fun, but you can't just stand there and take a picture-you gotta do something there."
"So what would you do in Times Square?" I asked, glad she hadn't immediately wished she were with them.
As we talked about things to do in NYC on a budget, we lagged behind Joss and Sharsky. After a few minutes they impatiently walked back to us.
"Guys, aren't you going to lord your victory over us at all?" Joss asked, exasperated on finding out that we were arguing favorite Shakespeare villains.
"You guys really take all the fun out of losing," Sharksy said grumpily.
…
On Thursday, we all stood in front of the building, stunned speechless. Finally Lisbeth blurted out, "It's so big!"
Sharsky whipped out his phone, but Joss stole it from him. "Yes! We are so winning this One-Line Stand Challenge!" She typed furiously for a second and then we all got text alerts. "All right, everybody. Give me your best commentary about Lucy the Elephant!"
Sharsky just opined, "No one wants to talk about the six-story elephant in the room."
"Or rather, the room in the six-story elephant," Joss said, nodding and typing up his comment before sending it.
A little creeped out, I said, "She's staring at me with those blank, soulless eyes."
Joss typed it out and we got another alert. Then she added her own contribution, saying it as she typed, "I'm disturbed by the windows in her buttocks."
Lisbeth tried for something a bit more sophisticated this time. "There's something eldritch about the elephant."
"Let's see them top that!" Joss said with a satisfied nod. "Now let's actually tour this thing."
"I'm going in," Sharsky said grimly. "Cover me!"
…
Friday was our last full day in Atlantic City, so we opted for something safe and chill after our creeptastic encounter with Lucy. An aquarium was family-friendly and everything, so we thought we'd be safe.
Before we lost signal among the massive tanks and even more massive walls that held them up, we got a One-Line Stand text from Leo. /Rae: "Is this the putrid after-effect of the Boston Tea Party?" Sam: "That was just the beginning. We Americans make a mess and we don't stop when it stops being fun. It's a sickness, really."/
"Is she not American?" Joss asked.
I shrugged, remembering creepy grandpa Tom Sharpe and deciding to keep to myself any speculations about whether Rae was even human. Instead, I opined, "If this is the pay-off for Leo's years of Spanglish studies, I'll be shocked to my core."
Immigration issues set aside for now, we turned back to the plans for the day.
The aquarium should have labeled the exhibit "Nightmares from the Abyss," but no, it had the bland name of "Deep Water Exploration." We stopped in front of a horrifying tank and Lisbeth said, "You want aliens? Here you go!"
Apparently Lisbeth and I were more on the same wavelength than I thought given my earlier silent speculation.
Glancing at the informational sign next to the tank, I said, "Wonder what planet 'Giant Isopods' are from."
Joss leaned closer to the glass, peering at the bug the size of her arm. "It's like God took an armadillo and a beetle and made a baby."
"That's so going into the challenge as soon as I have signal again!" Sharsky said.
In the gift shop, I found a 3-D Giant Isopod magnet and gingerly picked it up.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Sharsky asked.
"If you're thinking 'Fridge Guardian,' then probably."
Lisbeth grinned as she held up a Giant Isopod Stress Squishy. "And this will give Leo something to cuddle at night."
"Oooh!" Sharsky practically squealed. "I know exactly what to do with that!"
...
Saturday morning we stuffed our dirty clothes in our bags and souvenirs in the now-empty drinks cooler, double-checked all power cords were accounted for and lugged everything to the parking lot. We loaded it all into the car and grabbed a quick breakfast from the motel lobby continental spread. When we had all eaten and done one last bathroom stop, we were ready to go.
Assuming the seating plan would be the same, I was about to climb into the back, when Lisbeth pointed at Joss and said "You, in the back."
She immediately flushed deep red, probably remembering the One-Line Stand text with Mikaela's (hopefully unintentionally suggestive) instructions to Leo regarding the back seat. Joss was laughing convulsively as she complied.
I refrained from submitting that to the one line challenge because she was clearly embarrassed. Besides, I was pretty sure Leo would call foul on a repeated, stolen line. But I was pretty happy I had been promoted to shotgun.
...
It was weirdly comforting to stick my key in my own door. Vacay was fun and all, but there were only so many times I could put up with those dumb keycards before I succumbed to the impulse to hack the security system. I had to jiggle the doorknob slightly and put my shoulder into getting the portal to open and that was just as it should be.
I wasn't hit with any smells that made me gag, which meant we hadn't forgotten a bologna sandwich behind someone's desk or something. It still smelled like burning lint thanks to the heating system and there was a vague rattle that meant we needed to stick something in the windowpane.
I had just chucked my duffel on my unmade bed when my phone buzzed again. It was Sam, tagging me for the next one-liner.
/Dude,/ I texted, /give it up./
"We already kicked them hardcore to the curb," Sharsky agreed from the living room. "The game was off as soon as we set foot on campus."
A slightly more petulant version of that popped up on my screen a few seconds later.
/We've got another day on the road,/ Leo answered. /This ain't over yet, chamaco./
/It is when we're not picking up random hottie hitchhikers or skinny-dipping in the Hudson,/ I shot back.
/Ooooh, great idea for the ride back,/ Sam added.
/Point is, the most we can do is talk about doing a week's worth of laundry and the lack of Latin chanters in the common room. I don't even have to work until Monday./
It took a few moments for anyone to respond and I thought they'd been silenced by the absolute logic bomb I'd dropped. Sam was finally the one to speak up.
/It's Saturday, not even night yet. If you're not able to find something out-of-context-weird to say on campus in the next 24 hours, you're not the creep I thought you were./
I took more offense to the idea that I could be boring than the fact that he called me a creep, and I found myself smirking. /Challenge re-accepted./
Sam sent another one-liner not an hour later. /Cam (about Niagara Falls): "Come on, Rae, don't you want to test your metal against that?"/
I snorted and said to Sharsky, "He misspelled 'mettle.' Typical."
Sharsky started typing furiously in response, but what came through on my screen was a bunch of 1's and 0's.
Impressed, I asked him, "Did you seriously just quote me in binary without having to look it up?"
With a grin, Sharsky gloatingly licked his fingertips and slicked down his eyebrows.
…
Turns out April added our final Saturday night on-campus one-liner when she saw us coming back from a run to Dominos. Smiling and shaking her head at us, she said, "Pizza time again? Some things never change with you boys."
Both Sam and Leo texted back, /WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE DOOR?!/
…
Sam and Leo trudged through the door on Sunday night, looking like they'd had the crap kicked out of their energy levels and had loved every minute of it.
"Welcome back," I said, pausing one of the Star Trek movies (a continuation of our pre-vacation marathon - we had completed Generations and were just starting First Contact.).
"Ngghcalletemijo," Leo muttered back.
He dropped his baggage into a kind of amorphous heap.
"Leo," Sam called out, "not in the living room."
Leo said something less indistinctly offensive. "Where's the caffeine?"
"Used up this morning," Sharsky said mournfully. "We're going for refills tomorrow."
'My caffeine," he clarified in Sam's direction.
"You're not getting coffee until I can see this floor."
Sam was turning into Mary Poppins and it creeped me out. Leo kicked his bags into the doorway of the room and turned around with a murderous glare. Sam, apparently deciding this was better than nothing, held up a Spread 'Em travel cup.
"Where's my food?" Sam demanded, as though exchanging prisoners.
Leo grabbed the cup and jerked a thumb towards the pile he'd just made. Sam sighed and went treasure-hunting.
"One double decker chocolate chip muffin for you," he said after a minute.
"You didn't bring us anything?" I protested.
"You didn't save us pizza," Leo shot back while unwrapping too much sugar.
A second later, though, Sam pulled another bag out. "We didn't buy you anything, but we've got an Everything bagel with smoked salmon and plain cream cheese and a plain bagel with some sissy blueberry tarragon cream cheese."
"Vegan," I corrected without thinking.
Sharsky's eyes sparkled as if someone had just professed their undying love for him. "He remembers us!"
My brain caught up very suddenly to the fact that, after a week of adventures, they'd gone to Robowarrior's turf before coming home. I examined the vegan cream cheese with some dread.
"He remembers us." I looked up at Sam with trepidation.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sharsky said around his mouthful of bagel.
"Sharsky, how did he know we were roommates with Sam and Leo? And dude, he's Robowarrior!"
Sharsky stopped mid-chew and then spit his mouthful into the garbage can. Inspecting the cream cheese still on his bagel with extreme suspicion, he suddenly exclaimed, "OMG. It's like the whole thing with the yogurt! Is that why you got it vegan?"
