MZS- North East by K D McAdams

Author:K D McAdams
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Caveman Worldwide
Published: 2014-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

Parker Coady - Hotel Monaco, Philadelphia, PA

Chapter 24

“Come up to Philly, we’ll have a few laughs” they said. I didn’t want to have a few laughs a week after burying my wife. Escaping to the islands to think for a few days didn’t work though, so I had to try something. Home was never an option, so Philadelphia was next.

I know what wasn’t funny—the flight here.

Aruba to Toronto was a cakewalk. They were good flight attendants who understood that the only thing worse than a drunk passenger on their way home from paradise is an awake drunk passenger. The cocktails didn’t stop and I wondered why I was leaving the islands.

Toronto to Philadelphia was hell with wings. I thought the short flight would be the easy one. Supposedly they are trying to put an end to passengers sitting on the tarmac; let me just say, they still have plenty of work to do. We sat there for almost two hours. I was able to use the grieving husband card to get a few tiny bottles of liquor but they barely kept me buzzed.

Fortunately all these poor airlines are ready to make a buck any way they can. In-flight duty-free liquor saved me from sobering up and jumping off the plane somewhere around Niagara Falls.

How I made it from that fortress they call an airport to my hotel is anyone’s guess. Whatever, at least it’s not a holding cell, like that time I went to Thailand.

Speaking of cells, if I wanted to experience martial law again I would have vacationed in Cuba. Closing an entire city and requiring hotel guests to remain in their rooms or be shot sounds like an old Communist trick. It’s not a reception I expected in “The City of Brotherly Love.”

Ahh, brothers. It’s that demon brother of mine who brought me here. “Park’s in Philadelphia, there is so much to see,” he tells me. How will he show me these wonderful things if he doesn’t even call me? Though my mobile doesn’t seem to be working.

Aruba is barely a different country but it seems to have screwed up my phone completely. Before I left, I swore I wasn’t going to need the international calling features. I was in the islands to drown myself in tropical drinks, not talk on the phone. That lasted about six hours.

Now that I’m in the North East my phone isn’t fixed and the tropical drinks are done. All I have to drink is in the minibar in my room and after the bottle of white wine is gone, I have nothing. I could watch a movie or read through the glossy magazines again. What I cannot do is sleep any more. Hell, I don’t even know if the seven-thirty-four showing on the clock is morning or evening.

I ought to slide open the curtains, figure out if we’re at the beginning of the day or the end and enjoy my grape juice while I think.

Definitely morning. Somehow the damn sun seems brighter in Philadelphia.

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