Lucky Day

Fraught with a case of the vapors after wandering drunk I stumbled upon a local cinema. Surely the cooling systems will provide adequate relief from this sweltering heat I thought. I notice the ticket booth is stationed outside and quite a distance from the actual entrance. No fear, I'm not that sweaty and this theater should be empty enough to not force a poor soul upon my saddening aroma. As I approach the ticket island, hoards of fellow moviegoers race in front of me to form a queue. Blast, the afternoon sun burns with the might of a thousand magnifying glasses stacked one atop another blazing down upon my face.

4:40 p.m. the previews are starting. I look to the front of the line and the young lady sat at the counter has a certain calmness about her. A look of steel reserve in her eye. A look that said "I don't care how long this line is, I must greet every guest the same way and ask if they'd like to sign up for regal rewards." Praise be to you young counter clerk, Godspeed. I can feel my skin peeling as the queue begins to snake behind me. If only there was a water fountain nearby. Not that it would help, I surely wouldn't be able to trust these jackals to save a spot in line for me. I can hear the man at the counter, a man as old as father time himself agree to sign up for regal rewards. If I'm to survive this movie I'm going to have to get creative. I can't continue to hold my hands in the way of the scorching sun due to years of atrophy from my sedentary lifestyle. My mouth as dry as the Mojave, lips cracked like the liberty bell, feet cramping as if being hydraulic pressed, surely this can't be the end.

5:50 p.m. alas another young woman emerges from a hidden door in the ticket booth and approaches her register. She motions. No one moves. Surely she is not a mirage am I correct? I'm not the only one that can see her am I? She speaks into her microphone. I hear nothing. Damn, she is a mirage. I dry heave. My clothes are soaked, but I am no longer sweating.

5:53 It appears as though my body is thick as a pick and yet somehow anatomic. Finally I am summoned by the lovely ticket teller. I approach window, barely able to muster from my barren mouth is "wick." Thankfully she understands "one for John Wick 3: Parabellum?" She inquires. I nod in agreement. "Are you a regal rewards member?" I shake my head in a negative fashion. "Would you like to sign up?" She is unwavering. I shake my head again. No. She hands me a ticket and I start my expedition to the main entrance. What vile beast had set forth this machination upon me? Why is the ticket booth so far? Why is this parking lot so vast? One foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

6:30 p.m. I reach the door. With no energy left in my body, the door thankfully slightly ajar closing slowly I'm able to slink inside. Bless the kind soul that invented air conditioning. Bless their children and bless their children's children. A better feeling surely doesn't exist. Sadly I don't have time to get concessions as I've already missed enough of the film. I make it to the correct theater and propping myself up on the handrails I trek the gentle slope to where the seats are. Before I sit I cast my gaze upon the screen to see Keanu Reeves speaking in some sort of Russian language as the subtitles read "My name is Jon Bon Jovi" The Rockstar? I think to myself. Then I see it, a little black book barely visible from the light of the movie screen. I approach it, bend down to grab it. I think surely someone would... I actually blacked out and fainted at this point due to heat exhaustion no doubt. Thankfully there was one other kind soul in that particular theater who promptly called 9-1-1. I was rushed to the hospital and here I lay, IVs pumping life back into my body.

I notice my horrifically scented clothes in a pile on a chair beside my hospital bed, that little black book on top. The paramedics must have thought it was mine. I grabbed it to see just what was inside and possibly return it to the lost and found of that wretched theater. "Greyhound bus station Las Vegas Nevada. It's your lucky day." was all that was written in it. As I flipped through the pages I noticed a square was carved in the middle of the pages with a locker key #17 attached to it.

I pulled the ivs from arms and put on my clothes, still damp. Still rancid. Whatever, I stumbled down the hospital hallways as everyone moved as far from me as possible. As I exited the hospital the scorching heat blasted upon my blistered skin. Damn you sun. You heartless beast. Thankfully I was able to hail a cab quickly. "Greyhound bus station please" I said

"You got it pal." The driver said in some thick accent. "You sure you should be leaving hospital? You smell like perhaps you're not okay."

"I'm fine." The AC didn't work. I had to roll the windows down, not much relief in the Houston summer. My already dampened clothes became soaked again. Finally at the station I paid the cabby. The doors seemed like a mile away as I walked through the unbearable heat. I used that little black book to provide some shade for my face. I purchased my ticket and I was Vegas bound. Of course I pretty much had the entire back section to myself. No one wanted to be near my horrifying scent. The ride seemed to take an eternity. Switching busses damn near every city along the way. I lived off gas station hot dogs. My bank account was running quite low. Thankfully I was able to escape that hospital before anyone noticed I had come to.

Finally I made it. Las Vegas Nevada. One of the hottest places on Earth. Well, at least it's not humid here. I get to the lockers, I find #17 . Moment of truth. It opens. There's a duffle bag inside. I quickly grab it and head to the bathroom stall. As I unzip the bag I see a whole bunch of cash. Lots of cash. 20? 30 thousand? Today is my lucky day. I head outside in the scorching heat to the closest casino, The Luxor. I've always loved ancient Egypt. What miraculous air conditioning they have. I head to the roulette table. All on 17 I say as I lay down my giant stack of cash. "It's my lucky day." I say. "Sure hope so." says the dealer. He spins the wheel and tosses the ball. Around and around it goes. It spins for what seems like an eternity. It starts slowing down clanking and clashing around the wheel. I'll be able to have by own Pharaoh like tomb I think to myself. "00 Green" says the dealer. "Better luck next time". There is no next time. This was not my lucky day.