Sam: Smirks "It's not my fault they can't resist me Dean . . . "
Dean: "Oh yeah . . . I'm sure that's the reason . . . but I'm serious, I'm only going with you for research . . ."
Sam: "Oh come on . . . we can still have a little fun tonight!"
Dean: "Whatever . . . lets just find a motel and settle in for a day or so . . ."
Sam: "Fine."Hegoes around and gets in the drivers seat as Dean climbs into the passenger side. Sam starts up the Impala. Revving the engine, Sam reaches over and pops a Black Sabbath cassette into the player, and cranks up the volume, much to Deans displeasure. As Sam pulls the car out of the parking lot, Dean makes every attempt to shield his ears from the intrusive beat of the so called music.
Dean pulls out the laptop and punches at the keys for a moment, then turns it around to Sam, revealing a map. Since he knows better than to try and be heard over the blaring music, Dean just point to a spot on the screen, showing Sam where they currently were, and traces out the path to the nearest motel. About 10 minutes later, Sam cuts the wheel and guides the car to a stop in front a motel. Dean and Sam read the sign and share in one of those "uh-oh" moments . . . they had just pulled up in front of the "No-Tell Motel". They exchange glances, silently agreeing to pretend they didn't know what had just happened.
Sam steps out onto the warm gravel of the parking lot, and looks around. He ducks his head back inside the car for a moment, and comes out with a credit card and ID.
Sam: "Be right back . . . I'm gonna go get a room."
Dean nods and grabs his duffel bag out of the backseat. He watches Sam walk into the office, and wonders what alias they were using today.
Sam walks up to the man at the front desk, reading the name plate as he approached.
Sam: "G'moring Mr. Matheson . . . one room please." Hetosses the credit card onto the counter.
Hans Matheson looks up at Sam, then down at the credit card "Will that be two queens, or one king Mr. . . . " checks the name on the credit card . . . "Aaron Escolopio?"
Sam: "Two queens please . . ." Sam signs the credit card receipt and takes the keys from Hans.
Hans: "Room 13 . . . Have a nice day." Hereturns to his newspaper, catching up on theevents from the past few days.
Sam walks back out and grabs his stuff from the Impala. "Room thirteen Dean . . ."
Dean rolls his eyes "Oh aren't we lucky . . ."
When they get to the room, Sam unlocks the door, letting it swing open. They stand there a moment, taking in the decor . . .
the room looked as if Mardi Gras had exploded . . . the wallpaper was a montage of different beer bottle labels and beer brand logos. There were framed photos all over the place of the many different and quite unique costumes and festivities of Mardi Gras. But to top it all off . . . the icing on the cake . . . was most definitely the fact that some moron out there, had collected as many strands of beads from Mardi Gras as he, or she, could . . . and it looked like they had coated the room with glue, and then flung the beads. They were everywhere . . . they were nailed to the wall, glued to the lampshades, hanging from the ceiling, and they'd even patterned out a design on the shower curtain with them . . . it was thoroughly disturbing.
Sam and Dean simultaneously: ". . . huh . . . "