Jameson laughs out loud.
“You idiot. You roll it up.”
“It’s impossible,” I cry. “It’s like an elephant trying to fuck a cockroach.” I struggle some more. “There is no way this is fitting into that.”
“Have you heard of lube?” Tristan laughs.
“Obviously not,” Jameson replies. “Have you seen the women he likes?”
“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood for your shit,” I yell in frustration. “This is a complete disaster. I’m supposed to be on a vacation. I don’t have a spare nine hours every day to fight with a disobedient sleeping bag.”
“Lay it out flat.”
“What?”
“Lay it out flat,” Jameson snaps.
I lay it out flat.
“Now fold it in half and then in half again, and then roll.”
“Roll?” Elliot frowns.
“Roll . . . you idiot.”
“Why didn’t that half-wit tell us this in the shop?” I grunt.
Elliot and I get on our hands and knees and try to follow the instructions. We huff and we puff and moan and use all our strength, and to the sounds of Jameson and Tristan laughing out loud in the background, after twenty minutes we finally get it in.
“Now, fuck off.” I pick up the sleeping bag in its cover and kick it up the hall as hard as I can. “You’re not coming with me after pulling that bullshit. I never want to see you again.”
“You have to take it,” Elliot snaps.
“No way. It’s a four-man job, and I’m not a magician. I’ll happily freeze.”
Four days later
The plane touches down on the runway, and I blow out a long hard breath.
This is it.
In a moment, I will leave my comfortable first-class seat to find an Uber and travel out into the unknown with no money.
I don’t know what to expect other than the knowledge that my accommodation costs eighteen euros a night, I have nowhere near enough clothes, and I hate my sleeping bag with a passion.
Forty minutes later I walk out to the taxi stand feeling very pleased with myself.
Collected my luggage without a hiccup, and all is good in the world.
“Hello,” I say to the driver.
“Hello.” He smiles.
“Can you take me here, please?” I show him the address on my phone.
“Sí.”
“Great.”
He pops the trunk, and I put my backpack in, and I hop into the back seat.
He gets in and starts the car. I smile happily out the window.
Everything is running so smoothly. This is a walk in the park.
He puts the pedal to the metal, and we go zero to one hundred miles per hour in five seconds flat. He pulls out in front of a car, and they get on the horn.
“Ah.” I grab hold of the seat in front of me. “What are you doing?”
He changes lanes, and the tires screech; my eyes widen in fear. “Slow down,” I bark.
He goes across five lanes of traffic at high speed. “Relax.” He laughs as he waves his arms around. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“Nothing about your driving is okay!”
He speeds through a red light, and I scrunch my eyes shut as I grip the seat in front of me for grim death.