Run the Circuit

Their first time ever in the states, and all they’d seen were airport terminals and green rooms. What should have been something to write home to mum about was nothing more than land in New York, fly to Burbank, back to Manhattan, again to LA, and a final stop in Las Vegas before heading back to England to do the circuit all over again for local channels. Simon might have felt out of his element as the crowded tram sped along the track, if not for the fact that he’d practically sleep walked on the tube more times than he could count. He checked his watch, hoping to be able to nap once they got to the hotel, only to be immediately reminded of the horrendous time difference that apparently most Americans couldn’t even properly grasp.

He turned blindly, hoping that the person he’d just knocked into was Nick.

“What time we got to be at the hotel?” he mumbled into the weather-beaten suede jacket his friend was so fond of.

“I’unno,” Nick responded. “Three… something.”

“What time is it now?”

“I’unno,” he repeated. “Fucking watch don’t work.”

Simon sighed as the tram began a sudden deceleration as it neared the north end of the terminal, prompting the giddy throng surrounding them to pick up their luggage en mass. Each with only a small duffel bag a piece, Simon and Nick shuffled out of the tram as two security officers directed the gaggle of gawking tourists down a set of escalators, many of whom were transfixed by the dozens of billboards and video screens that lined the main terminal, each hawking some hot magic or music act.

The two bleary-eyed men navigated their way through the mess of baggage claim carousels and confused travelers, barely spotting the small sign with their names written sloppily in Sharpie pen. Gracelessly changing course, they followed the driver out to the waiting car, eager to at least get a shower in back at the hotel before having to go down and finish the last leg of their American tour. They climbed into the back seat of the over-sized sedan as the driver carefully loaded their bags into the trunk.

“You guys are those guys, aren’t you?” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “You did that zombie movie.”

Simon nodded, trying to seem polite. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s us.”

“That movie was awesome!” the driver went on as he started the car and began navigating his way through dozens of cabs. “You guys got something new coming out or something?”

Again Simon nodded, trying to figure out the polite way to tell an annoying American driver to kindly shut the fuck up. “Yeah,” he replied simply.

“That’s cool,” the driver continued. He paused, seeming to wait for a response, but neither Simon nor Nick gave him the satisfaction. Apparently getting the point, he remained silent as he negotiated his way to the freeway, outrunning the cabbies that drove in the same direction.

Eager to see the Strip, Nick leaned his head against the window as he saw the first glimpses of the tops of the tallest hotels. Tapping his friend on the shoulder, he directed Simon’s attention out the window as well, but the view was soon obscured tall trees and retaining walls. When the hotels became again visible, it struck the larger man that they seemed to be getting farther away.

“Uhm, excuse me?” he asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be going to one of those hotels?”

The driver nodded. “Yeah,” he said lightly. “But this way’s less traffic to the one we’re going to.”

“Oh.” He dismissed any concern he had easily, trusting that their driver knew his way around the city better than he did. He leaned back in his seat, turning his gaze again out the window.

“I’m pretty sure we should be heading that way,” Nick said, pointing to the direction of the massive hotels which were still growing even smaller in the distance.

“Don’t worry about it,” the driver assured as the car picked up speed.

The men in the back seat now had to turn in their seats to even see the hotels at this point. Unless the driver knew of some magical wormhole that would take them directly to the set, they were clearly headed in the wrong direction.

“Oi!” Simon demanded as he wrenched back around to face the back of the driver’s head. “Where the fuck are we going?”