The Plot Thickens: A Daily Prompt Adventure

Wow. I suddenly had a magical plot of land in Western Kentucky. I could do anything I wanted with the land, so I had suddenly become a land mogul. My plot of land was 250 acres of total possibility (self-help term in action) at the moment. Flattened earth with nothing at all growing on it, but I had plans. Big plans. If I could only stop these badgers from dropping little badger nuggets all over my plot. First step, though, to stop looking at it through Google Earth, and to head on out there. Easier said than done.

I booked a flight to Kentucky, going non-stop, but I missed it. I was able to, however, sit in the airport for eight hours waiting for the next flight, and keeping a watchful eye on my plot of land via the aforementioned Google Earth (which henceforth will be known only as “that addictive devil”). Sleeping was also accomplished, although I have no idea how, seeing as the chairs were hard as clods of earth. See, I’m already using my land as a base for similes. I’m cool like that.

I thought we had done away with smoking flights, like, in the ’80s. But I guess I was wrong.

So, I finally got to Kentucky, but the flight was a smoking flight. I thought we had done away with smoking flights, like, in the ’80s. But I guess I was wrong. Either that, or I was just too cheap to book a real airline with standards and things. Ah well. So, I finally got to Kentucky and the security at the airport decided to manhandle me. I guess they’re not used to large, black men coming in on that particular airline. I guess it was some kind of red flag or something. So I got strip-searched. What’s up with that? And they made me wait in this windowless room for several hours while they did who knows what. Eventually I got out of the room, and out of the airport. By that time I felt kind of like Tom Hanks’ character from The Terminal, but I survived.

It was really late by then so I decided to go to a hotel for the night, but on the way there, while walking on a crowded street, somebody jacked my computer from right under my arm. I knew I should have brought the keypad case that latches it to my wrist. I ran after the assailant, but that short farmer-hat-wearing dude was faster than an electric scooter. Well, there’s $200 bucks I’ll never see again. And to top it off, it meant I wouldn’t be able to monitor my property until I saw it up close and personal the following day. That damn plot of land was costing me so much more than it should have. And I still hadn’t gotten there yet.

I swear a saw a tranny hooker standing outside one of the rooms too, but I could have been dreaming it.

So, the hotel was a mess. In fact, I don’t know how they got away with calling it a hotel. It was a motel at best. One level, doors all facing the highway, paint peeling in the lobby. Yup, classic motel. But, hey, I was only paying $10 a night. At first I thought they left out a zero in their ad, but when I got there I could see why $100 a night would have been laughable for that place. I swear I saw a tranny hooker standing outside one of the rooms too, but I could have been dreaming it. I’m farsighted at night. If it wasn’t one, though, I might just be a monkey’s uncle. Then the old-fashioned key got stuck in the lock without even opening the door, so I had to get the night clerk, while praying to whatever deity is on duty in Kentucky to make sure the key was still in the door when I got back, and that no one was in my room. The night clerk was a pimply faced 15-year old who looked like he’d seen better days. But he was efficient enough, getting my key out in only 20 minutes, by which time I was schvitzing like a hydrant.

I collapsed onto the paisley print covered bed , which also threatened to collapse from the sheer weight of my body. Apparently. So I grabbed the remote and discovered there was a grand total of three channels. So I turned it back off and dropped right to sleep. By the time morning arrived I realized I had overslept. I tried to take a shower, but there was no hot water. That’s when I remembered the ad for the place said “Showers available,” but it said nothing about those showers being hot. That’s how they got you. And for my troubles I had to pay an extra $10 bucks for late check-out. I shook my head all the way to my rental car, a 1985 clunker, which was the only vehicle they had left at the rental car place. Then again, I’m honestly not sure if it wasn’t just some guy trying to get rid of a little hot merchandise. The car was obviously on its last legs, but it got me out to my plot of land in only four hours, with only a few stops to keep the car from overheating too much. It seemed to be schvitzing as badly as I was the night before.

Then I was there. And it was sooooo not worth all the trouble. I took out my phone, called my land broker, told him to get the best price for it he could, slipped in some badger shit on my way back to the car, and kissed it all goodbye. What a wasted weekend.

Sam