Wednesday, October 16, 2013

These Are Not the Bikes You Are Looking For

I sat in the parking lot with the engine off. The hotel looked really dark and ominous and for some reason it didn't seem like I expected. No lights were on in any windows and it was night. That should be a bad sign, right? Tom Bodett at Motel 6 would not approve of this. I checked in anyway, and soon discovered that the whole place was a den of thieves. Not that they were looking to steal from me, but it seemed everyone in that place was scheming to steal from someone else.

After I had dropped off my luggage in my room, I went back down to the lobby for a minute (I don't remember why) and a bunch of cyclists in spandex were huddled on sofas wearing their helmets and plotting something. As I walked past, one of them stopped me and said that they needed a driver. That cracked me up since they all had bikes. Why do they need a driver? They insisted that they needed a driver and that they would pay me $50,000 cash to be their driver. I asked how soon they needed a ride.

They told me to back my car up to the front door of a nearby casino resort at a specific time on the following day. I would need to be there on time, not a second late and wait for them. Then, when they arrived, I would need to take off as soon as they all got in the car and drive them about 15 minutes away. Sounded like an easy way to make $50,000 to me.

The next day I sat in my car with it backed up in front of the main entrance to the casino resort. They told me to get as close as I could without blocking the door, so I had backed up the sidewalk, up the concrete steps, and was sitting right in the entryway waiting.

Suddenly, all of the cyclists appeared. They all wore ridiculous spandex outfits with blue helmets and they all furiously rode yellow bikes. They raced up the steps, threw their bikes on the ground in front of the doors, pulled out machine guns, and went charging in through the main doors.

This was not at all what I expected. That whole entrance should have been a deal-breaker, but I wanted to see what happened. I hadn't committed any crime, so no reason I would be in trouble for anything they did.

A moment later a U-Haul truck came barreling into the parking lot and right up to the entrance next to me. The cyclists all came bursting out the doors again with large duffle bags that seemed to be very heavy. One cyclist threw open my car door and tossed a bag full of money on the front seat next to me while the others opened the trunk and somehow managed to cram ALL of their bikes into the trunk AND close it. "There's your cut. Make the bikes disappear." And then they all piled into the U-Haul, the driver peeled out and they were gone.

Well that was unexpected. Now what? I pulled forward slowly and drove back down the steps. I parked the car in a parking space and sat there wondering what I should do. Just then, someone knocked on my window. It was one of the cyclists! "You don't have to take off anywhere, just don't let anyone ever find those bikes. No one saw you doing anything; you were out here in your car the whole time, so no one will be looking for you. You should go inside and grab a bite to eat. Really. The food is great here." Then he ran away.

I got out and walked to the building and just then the whole parking lot flooded with cop cars and even a helicopter was flying overhead. Everyone ran past me and into the building. I ordered a meal and discovered that the food was really good. There was a lot of commotion all around me, but no one bothered me. The cops questioned everyone except me and kept asking people if they had seen a group of cyclists on yellow bikes.

I have no idea why I did this, but I went back out to my car, grabbed a yellow bike out of the trunk and rolled it into the restaurant. I leaned it against my table and resumed eating. A cop came over and gave me a stern look. "Where did you get this bike?" he asked. "It's not mine," I said. That was good enough for him, so he walked away.

And that was the end of that dream. Weird, huh?