A tale of two Garths. Chapter 45. SPINNNNNN….. LOSER.

“Stacy, I need you to go check the women’s restroom,” the new manager told me. First day on the job and already on a power trip. Fine…bathroom duty it is. I dragged my butt into the bathroom to check it for the trash I already knew wasn’t going to be there. This wasn’t McDonalds. This was a nice restaurant. People knew how to not pee on the seats, and how to put their paper towels in the trash.

“Stacy, I need you to go check the women’s restroom,” the manager asked me again an hour later. I stood there for a second looking around at all my coworkers and noticed one glaring fact. No one else had been asked to go into the land of pee to search for non-existent things to pick up. *Sigh* Whatever. So one more time I went to the clean bathroom and inspected it’s cleanliness. But this time I decided to freshen up my make up and use the payphone to check my voice mails. Nothing. That’s a bummer.

“Stacy, I need you to go check the women’s restroom.” And THAT was all she wrote.


“Yes.” “Take a look around you. Aside from the two new guys, all the servers are women.”


“And yet you keep asking me to check the restrooms.”

“No, I’m just telling you to do your job,” Charles replied with a condescending smirk.

“Charles,” I repeated.

“Yes,” he said, with a roll of his eyes.

“Do you know whose job this was before you took it?”

“No.” The impatience and hostility were replaced by confusion.

“Mine. The only reason you have this job is because I turned it down.” *Snickers from my fellow wait staff*

“That’s not true,” he said in whiny voice.

“Oh it’s true. Go ask Luis.” And that’s when Charles looked at me with daggers in his eyes like I had just made up some sort of managerial conspiracy theory.

“I WILL go ask Luis,” he said.

“Well then do it!” I felt like a little kid fighting with their sibling. “I’m telling mom!” And that’s when Charles ran off towards the office in a huff.

“I think someone needs a time out,” I said out loud to no one in particular.

I went home later that night to find my boyfriend with a picture taken off the wall, balanced on his lap, and a gigantic pile of cocaine strewn all over it. Credit card in one hand chopping it up, and a rolled up dollar bill in the other.

“Who are you, Manuel Noriega?” *SNIIIIIIIIIiIFF*


“Dude! That’s a LOT of coke,” I said, as I stood glued to the spot I was standing in.

“People have put in orders this year,” he said.

“So you’re telling me we are going to be driving that much blow to Colorado?”

“Yes.” We are going to end up in jail I just know it. It was Pig Roast time again and apparently we were drug mules. Well, I was a drug mule. He was just an ass. So we did what we had done in the past. We put copious amounts of illegal substances in hair, lotion, and food products. Leaving ourselves exactly 6 joints for the drive. Theory being, we could just eat the joints if we got pulled over. I’m sure the cop wouldn’t notice us trying to chew up dry weed with marijuana-laced grins on our faces.

The next morning bright and early, say…2:00 p.m., Garth’s high school friend Jonathon showed up at our apartment in a Cadillac Seville. We now had our sweet new rental car. Garth’s brother was riding shotgun, and we began our yearly pilgrimage to the holy land. A pilgrimage that took us straight through Las Vegas. Like a Siren song, Vegas always tried to suck us in, but we couldn’t be swayed. Vegas will not tempt me. Vegas will not tempt me. Vegas will not tempt me. But sure enough, just as soon as we started to see the gorgeous neon in the distance, Garth spoke up. “I just realized I forgot all of my shoes at home.”

“ALL of your shoes?” I asked.

“Well all except for these,” he said as he showed me his beat up flip-flops.

“We’re going to have to stop and buy new shoes if we want to go hiking.” We had our whole trip mapped out. We had planned to see Mexican Hat, hike in Zion, and spend some time on the Navajo Nation. But some of this wouldn’t happen if my boyfriend didn’t get his hands on some real shoes.

“We could stop in Vegas. I’m sure they have tons of places to buy shoes there,” Adam suggested.

“No way! We can NOT stop in Vegas. We have a trunk full of coke. If we stop in Vegas, we will never leave Vegas,” I pointed out. Jonathon than agreed with me. We were driving on. It was getting later and later and we wanted to hike Zion the next day.

“We should probably start looking for a place to stay,” Jonathon suggested. We may have mapped out our route, but we didn’t plan where we would stay or make any hotel reservations for that matter.

“Where are we?” Adam asked as we looked off into the darkness.

“I have no idea,” Jonathan answered him.“But we should probably stop to get some booze and food before everything closes.” It sounded like such a good idea at the time. We all piled out of the car in front of a supermarket and stretched and yawned.

“You guys go on ahead,” Garth said to the two boys. “I’m just going to double check the trunk for my shoes. Maybe I did bring them.” So I stayed back with Garth and we looked and looked through all the luggage and sure enough, no shoes.

“We’ll I guess we’ll just have to buy some,” I told him. We went into the store and Garth caught up with the guys to get random food and alcohol. I decided to try my luck at the slot machines inside the supermarket. Who ever heard of such a thing? SPINNNNNN….. LOSER. SPINNNNNN….. LOSER. SPINNNNNN….. LOSER.

“Stace, we’re ready,” the guys informed me. Just as well. I was out of quarters. We wheeled our small cart out to the car. We all stood there patiently looking at one another.

“Who has the keys?” Jonathon asked.

“Oh, hold on,” Garth said while digging through his pockets. And digging, and digging. Still digging.

“Oh shiiiiiittttt,” Garth said looking deflated.

“What?” Adam asked.

“I think I locked the keys in the trunk.” SPINNNNNN….. LOSER. Being the one responsible person in the relationship, with a Pontiac Firebird that broke down every couple of months, I pulled out my Triple A card.

“We’ll call Triple A and see if we can get some one out here to get the keys out of the trunk,” I said. At this point in the night we were all so tired and apparently so was the rest of Nevada.

“I’m sorry but we can’t find anyone to come out and open the trunk up for you,” the nice woman at Triple A told me.

“Look, we’re from California and have no place to stay. We’re currently stuck in a shopping center parking lot, and we can’t even sleep in the car. Can you please, please keep looking? “ I begged her over the phone.

*Silence* “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. About 20 or so minutes later the payphone rang.

“Hello?” I said into the receiver.



“This is your savior from Triple A. I have found one man who is willing to come out to you at this hour, but it’s going to take it at least a half hour to get to you.”

“We’ll wait.” So we waited. And while we waited, we lost more money at the slot machines. Eventually, our angel in a tow truck arrived to free the poor lonely keys that were still in search of shoes in the truck of our Cadillac Seville.

“Here you go kids,” the obviously tired man said to us while handing back our keys.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” I said to him as I tipped him a $20.

At this point we were all so tired and well into the wee hours of the morning. We climbed back into the car and drove around Nevada looking for a hotel room constantly coming up short. We finally found a hotel in Mesquite Nevada that was not only open, but had a room available. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of staying in Mesquite. But if you haven’t, I highly recommend you cross it off of your list of “Things to do.” The hotel manager was kind enough to take us to our room, which was possibly the closest thing to the pit of darkness one would ever have the pleasure of staying in.

“I have to pee so bad!” I exclaimed as I walked in the room and dropped my suitcase.

“Me too. But I have to drop a deuce so you go first,” Adam told me. So off I went. And went. And went. I told you I had to pee. Then when I was done both Adam and Jonathon proceeded to use the bathroom. Before I knew it we were making a call to the front desk because our poor little toilet had apparently waived the white flag in defeat. After the hotel manager fixed the problem and we were free from the storm brewing in the tiny toilet, we all sat down and smoked one of our 6 joints and drank some tequila and some nice cold beer.

“We’re going to the bar, “ Jonathon informed Garth and I. “Do you guys want to come?”

“I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed,” I told the Midnight Train.

“Okay, but you’re going to miss out,” Adam said. Somehow I didn’t believe him.

After Jonathon and Adam left I brushed my teeth and climbed into the double bed Garth and I were sharing. As I lay my head down on the pillow I looked up at the ceiling and saw Charlotte.

“There is a HUGE spider on the ceiling.” I told Garth. I know I’m going to wake up in the morning and there is going to be a giant web over our heads that says “Kill, kill.” Garth just looked at the ceiling, then looked at the bathroom, and instead of killing the spider, he made a beeline for the bathroom for what I’m assuming was to grace our poor toilet with another deuce. And just as I was about to fall I sleep I heard him emerge. And I could have sworn I heard Garth say, “Stacy, I need you to go check the women’s restroom.”

To be continued…

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