“Ew,” we both say in unison.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the driver screams at the man. The driver is losing his shit and yelling and screaming at his passenger.
“Oh dear.” My eyes are wide.
The driver puts his hands on his knees and bends over. He begins to throw up alongside the other man.
The first vomiting man says something to the driver, and then the driver seems to lose it and pushes him over. He falls onto the ground as he continues to vomit.
I put my hand over my mouth at the spectacle in front of us. “Jeez.”
The driver begins to yell, “It smells so bad.” He grabs the side of his cab to hold himself up. “Stop vomiting before I knock you out!” The driver loses control again and heaves before projectile vomiting too. It’s coming out so fast it’s like a fire hose.
“Fucking hell,” my driver mutters. “Idiots.” He pulls around the parked cab and speeds past them.
I turn and watch the vomiting duo through the back window as we drive off.
Well . . . that’s something you don’t see at home.
Twenty minutes later my cab pulls up at the front of a big building. “Here you go.” He smiles.
“Thanks.” I pay him, and he gets my things out of the trunk.
“Be careful,” he warns me. “Bad people are everywhere.”
“Thanks.” I fake a smile. I drag my bag up the steps and into the foyer. “Hello, I’m checking in today.”
“Hello.” The guy smiles. “What’s your name?”
“Hayden Whitmore.”
“Ahh, Hayden. From America.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You are staying with us for ten days?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Great. Come and I’ll show you around.”
I follow him up the hall. He shows me the bathroom, the laundry, the bar and restaurant. “You’re in the fossil room.”
“The fossil room.”
“Anyone over twenty-five stays in the fossil room.”
“I’m just twenty-five.”
He smiles as he marches off in the direction of my room. “Like I said.”
I follow him, and he opens the door in a rush. “Your bunk is the one underneath here.”
I stare at the unfriendly room: three sets of bunk beds and all-white linen. “Okay.”
“Rest up.” He smiles. “You’ll meet everyone when they get back tonight. Most people sightsee all day around here.”
“Okay.” I force a smile. I’m missing home already. “Thanks.”
He leaves me alone, and I climb into my bottom bunk. I get under the sheet, feeling the need for protection.
For ten minutes I doze. It’s been a long week: lots of nervous sleepless nights and then the long flight. I really should try to take a nap. I don’t want to be tired and boring when everyone gets back.
The door bursts open, and someone marches in. I can only see legs and body up to his head.
“What the fuck?” the guy mutters. He has an American accent. He tears his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor; then he rips his jeans off and kicks them to the side. “Fucking disgusting,” he grumbles. “When I get ahold of that guy.”
He takes his boxer shorts off and kicks them to the side.