Albany, New York.
The Mass-Turnpike was insane; these hoards of up-state drivers and New England tourists raced along at 20 miles over the limit. I made it to Albany in no time.
The petrol stations offer only pre-pay. Is gas theft really that much of an issue here?
Laptop busted; Trip Advisor and Urban Spoon are useless. Fuck food; I need to find a repair shop. What use am I without my keyboard?
I score a seedy hotel beside the gas station. It was large and looked like it may have been something special one day; but that day was many moons before today. A few things are definite; I need my laptop; beer; and food. Best to tackle these requirements in order.
Driving aimlessly through Albany; I find many things that are new to me. Side-streets full of unkempt lawns; grass growing between side-walk bricks; boarded windows and closed businesses; and I’m being followed by a jet-black Cadillac Escalade with chrome rims and tinted windows.
Your friendly neighbourhood dope-man, no doubt.
Locating a computer repair shop was unsuccessful. Moderately lost and then casually finding my way back to the motel; I want a beer. I walk across the street to the petrol station and see that they have forty-ounce bottles of Heineken in the cooler; beside the soda and orange juice. I grab two and set them on the counter beside the beautiful gas-maiden attending the counter. She smiled and stared at me. She had those fuck-me eyes; but fucking a random isn’t my thing.
She ID’s me.
She sees it’s foreign; and tells me I’m supposed to be twenty-one to buy beer in New York.
I smile and pretend to play dumb. She knows it’s an act. A sly grin and politeness go a long way in convincing a pretty girl to bend the rules for a mysterious foreigner.
She rings me through and bags my beer. I thank her and walk back to my hotel room, forever alone.
Never fuck on the road. Best worst case scenario; you pass on your genetic material and unknowingly exist as a DNA fragment in a bastard child you never knew existed. Worst case scenario; herpes.
I think I’ll pass.
I drop my sleeping pill, topped with Heineken; and forego a meal for some sleep.