Hotel Party

Two college students take a Euro-trip to Moscow in the early 1990's.

Hotel Party

     Nineteen ninety two is a great year to die. Just not on a plane! John Russell’s mind raced as he stared down on the Atlantic Ocean. He felt his breathing tighten and his heart pace whenever the plane engine would sound as if it were a stick shift corvette. Finally, he couldn’t take anymore and reached for a cheap car magazine and began staring blankly. He turned page after page in a vain attempt to end his obsession with the engine sound.    

     His friend Brian was seated a few rows in front of John. The best that cheap airfare could do. Brian had picked up a novel at the airport gift store and John could only assume the Brian was calmly immersed in it. John was distressed to be jealous. John’s only concern was the engine and it seemingly called to him, ‘”failing in 30 seconds! See you in hell!”

    A middle-aged stewardess in a tight, blue uniform was taking orders for drinks and sandwiches. John got a ginerale. It was a long flight and he sipped his small cup gently because it gave him a momentary release from the grips of death. Two hours passed by and the same routine began all over again. When the plane reached international waters the same stewardess began pushing untaxed liquor and cigarettes. “I’ll take three cartons of Marlboro,” John overheard Brian say.

     “God, I need one of those,” John thought to himself. Even that probably wouldn’t have helped him as the plane began bouncing. “You alright, my friend,” the guy next to him said in a clear French accent. “Yeah, I’m hanging in there,” he replied. John knew that he was finally exposed. He wondered what gave it away. “It’s just turbualnce,” the man said.

     “Yeah, I know, I hate flying,” John said hesitantly.

     “Don’t we all,” he replied, “The name is Nigel.”

     “John, I’m American.”

     “I figured so, what part of America?” Nigel asked

     “Ohio,”  

     The small talk began to calm John’s nerves. “You’re French I’m assuming?” John asked. “Yes” replied Nigel in a sarcastic tone of voice. John explained he was from a small town in Ohio and that he and his college roommate had decided to take a summer adventure in Europe. They were going to start off in Russia and then ride the rail east until they hit Spain.

    “What Brings you to Moscow?,” John said.

    “Loose women, cheap liquor and shallow friends,” Nigel answered.

   The two continued their conversation until the captain announced the plane was on final approach. “Any last words,” muttered Nigel with a small grin on his face. John never said anything. He just remained seated while the plane began its descent and the engine whined with a fury.  

    The plane landed with a bounce and after a small delay the plane was cleared. John and Brian made their way through customs. They exited the airport and lit up a cigarette. The silence between the two was  broken only by the occasional passing of a car or bus.

    “Can I bum one of those?” asked a voice behind them.

     John turned around and noticed the black-haired Frenchman standing behind him. “Sure,” he replied and pulled out his pack. “Thank you, buddy,” Nigel replied as he picked a cigarette out. John laughed and made the introduction to Brian. After a short conversation, Nigel took a puff of his cigarette and one eye seemed to close slightly more than the other. “What are you two gentlemen doing tonight?” he said as he exhaled.

    It was 4p.m. by the time Brian and John reached their room. They opened their door and then fell flat on their face. The two of them slept like King Tut; coming back to life sometime around 8p.m. John had two missed texts from Nigel. One read, “Wats up?!” and the other “Hotel Party.”

     Brian looked over at John when he read the texts out loud. “Brian shrugged and said “Cool, give him a call.” John popped into the bathroom with his phone.

    The cab ride to the hotel cost twenty-five American dollars.  They got out, tipped the driver, and then stared at a tall but bleak concrete slab. They approached and opened glass door with a metal handle. Surprised that the door wasn’t locked, they entered . The inside of the building was as unimpressive as the outside. The lobby was dark with mild yellow lights illuminating a staircase in the back. Shadows of wooden chairs and coffee tables were barely visible to the naked eye and the paint on the walls was chipped.

    As they approached the staircase, a female voice was heard stemming from  the black mist. “You must be the Americans Nigel keeps talking about.” A tall, blonde girl in her 20’s wearing a black party dress appeared from the darkness with a flirtatious grin and a cigarette in her left hand. The sudden appearance of an attractive woman caused John and Brian to halt their advance.“Party’s upstairs Boys” she said as she strolled past them and made her way to the door.  “Thanks,” replied John as she passed.

    John knocked and entered and Brian followed behind him. That was the last thing that either one of them remembered. The next thing they knew was that both of them were bound and gagged in a well-lit, white room with an unmade bed to the right and red flag on the wall in front of them with a black swastika. To their left was a large window with the curtains drawn.

    John felt a sharp sickness in his stomach. His natural reflex was to puke but the tape over his mouth forced his vomit to settle in the back of his throat. They sat alone in the room where time seemingly had no meaning. Eventually the door slammed behind them and two causation men with wife beaters and ski masks walked in front of them. One of them had a small video camera.

     The man without the camera addressed the two of them. “Welcome Gentlemen, to Russian Aryan Federation.”

    “I am the bishop,” he said. “Don’t make things worse on yourself. Just give us your PIN numbers and you go.” The man with the camera ripped the tape off Brian’s mouth. He then approached John and jerked the tape from his mouth in one swift motion. John threw up all over himself and the man with camera. Insults were screamed in Russian but the moment passed by mostly without outrage. The silence following John’s vomit was broken only when the bishop asked calmly “PIN numbers, please.”

      “1472,” Brian said. John looked at Brian and then taking his lead added, “6823.” The bishop pulled out a cell phone and began speaking in Russian. “The numbers check out,” he said in a calm voice.

    “Now one more thing,” the bishop said. “Look into the camera and tell the world you’re a homosexual.”

    “What?!” replied John. “I’m not f*****g gay.”

    “Excuse me, I don’t mean any disrespect,” the bishop said, “we just want something on you, so we know we won’t have any problems with you.”

   “If the two of you admit to being homosexuals, then you will be criminals in violation of Russian law.”

   “But, You made us!,” John said.

    “Perhaps, but two Americans who admitted on tape they were gay…” “Nobody will care, they’ll just deport you and believe me you don’t want a KGB investigation.”

   Brian and John took a long state at each other and then finally shifted their back to the man with the camera.  “I’m a homosexual.” Brian said looking directly into the camera as if it were a CNN exclusive.

     “Now you,” said the bishop pointing to John.

     “I’m gay,” John said looking into camera.

     “Good, now let them go.”

    “Oh, Welcome to Russia!”

 

   

 

 

    

    

Reviews

[Nope]

I liked the overall feel of this, and you had an interesting incident happen which was good. However, I agree with keeanaaaa that it felt a little rushed at some points. I think you could do with more of a lead up to them arriving at what they thought was a party? And perhaps a little more introduction to their characters, to make it more understandable? Apart from some stuff that might need to be spell checked though, it sounds like you have a good opening so yeah, definitely keep going!

[keeanaaaa]

Nice story. It felt a little rushed and it could use a bit more character development. All in all though, I liked where you were going and could see it as a possible novel beginning -if that was something you might have had in mind. Keep on writing!

[Rob Jay]

Thanks! I can see what you mean.