I pulled into the parking lot of the motel at approximately I yawned and put Led Zeppelin IV into the stereo up in the front of the van. "Hey, hey mama said the way you move," Robert Plant's voice screamed through the speakers, suddenly filling the van with sound. John and Cyn jerked awake.
"God, Audrey," John complained.
I just sat looking smugly at the motel's doors. "So, who's got any money?"
"Come on Cynthia, you know you wanna pay for our motel room," I teased, looked back at Cyn. She was curled up on the mattresses underneath an orange paisley print blanket.
Cyn groaned, "Oh alright!" She sat up and rubbed her sleepy eyes.
John was amused, and laughed. I pulled the van into a parking space. We all got out of the car and quickly walked inside, the cold December breeze blowing my long hair in the wind.
Inside the small, tacky motel, it was warm from the fire burning in the fire place. The glow of the flames illuminated the room with a dim orange light. There were two empty overstuffed arm chairs in front of the fire. The lobby seemed almost romantic despite the cheapness of it all.
Cyn led us to the front desk where the receptionist was reading a paperback romance novel. When we approached her, she put down her book and looked at us non-attentively. "What kinda room ya want?" she asked, annoyed. She was from Brooklyn, the accent made it plain as day.
"Just a room for 3 people, I guess," Cyn replied kindly.
"Name?" she asked, not looking up from the computer.
"K, I need your address and your diver's license."
"My address is 26 Lakeshore Drive, Appleton, New York, 14682," Cyn said while rummaging through her purse in search of her license. When she found it, she set it on the counter. The receptionist looked at the license and then at Cyn.
"Alright, here's yer keys. The room is 182, enjoy your stay," she handed us the keys with a fake smile plastered on her face. Cyn gave her the same smile as she headed down the hallway.
"Here it is," I sighed when we reached room 182. Cynthia put the key into the lock and opened the door.
The room was...cozy. If cozy means small, it was the coziest room I've ever been in, besides a bathroom. "It's...nice," Cyn said, trying to be cheerful.
"Oh give it up Cynthia, it's crap and you know it," John spoke up. We all laughed, in spite of our tiredness.
I walked over to a bed and surveyed the room. Two double beds with a nightstand in between and a dresser with a small TV placed on top. Suddenly overcome with tiredness, I fell down onto the bed, and instantly went to sleep.
"Good morning Audrey!" I was awoken by John and Cyn dancing around the room to "Photograph" by Weezer. John smiled at me, and the distorted guitars and British vocals of Weezer wiped any trace of tiredness away from me.
Cyn and John had already showered and dressed. Cyn was wearing an orange miniskirt and a fitted yellow top with orange daisies. She topped it off with white go-go boots. Her long blonde hair was down, and teased back, making her resemble Pattie Boyd. I could tell she was challenging me, and I had to match up to her choice of style for the day. It was an important day too, we would meet Yoko. I jumped out of bed and grabbed my suitcase on my way into the bathroom.
An hour later, I emerged from the cramped bathroom, satisfied with the look I had chosen for the day. I was wearing a fitted royale blue dress with flared sleeves. It was edged in a black and blue paisley print trim. Underneath my short dress, were bell bottoms in the same print as the trim of my dress, and I had on black go-go boots. My hair was down and teased back like Cyn's, but my fake lashes and mod makeup caused her to throw up her hands and say, "You win."
"Yes!" I cried. "Now we can go to the Dakota." I motioned to the door and glanced at John who was staring at me, then at Cyn. "You didnt like shag last night or something, did you?" I asked stupidly.
"No!" Cyn said quickly, obviously shocked by my question.
"Well, you seemed really tired Aud, so I thought we should save it for another night when you could join in too!" John joked.
"Funny," Cyn said with a stern look on her face.
"God John, thanks for being so considerate," I said sarcastically as I walked out the door.
As we passed through the lobby, I glanced at the receptionist. It was the same chick as the last night. They certainly overworked their employees.
The receptionist looked up at us, noticing out clothing, hair, and makeup. She snorted and refocused her attention to her romance novel.
Out in the parking lot, John asked it he could drive. "Sure," I replied. We approached my can, and John got into the driver's seat. Cyn and I opened up the back and crawled in.
Cyn grabbed her guitar case and took out her acoustic guitar and began to strum the first few chords of "Yellow Submarine". John and I joined in on vocals as John started the ignition and pulled out of the desolate parking lot. We exited onto the highway, and John became so wrapped up in our sing-along, that he wasn't concentrating on the road.
Soon enough, we heard sirens behind us. "Shit, girls, why didn't tell me I was speeding!" John yelled. He pulled over and a police man came over to the van. John rolled down his window.
"License," the policeman said.
Cyn and I looked helplessly at each other. "Does John have a license?" Cyn whispered to me.
"I hope so," I whimpered. "If not, John'll be able to get around it somehow."
Sure enough, John had his license. I heaved a breath of relief. He handed his license to the policeman. He looked it over intimately and said with a smirk, "You're John Lennon?" John nodded. "Ha! Sorry man, he's been dead for over 20 years," the policeman said rudely. He looked into the back of the van at Cyn and I. "You're all coming with me."
"Shit," Cyn cursed as we reluctantly got out of the van. The officer motioned us to his car.
We were shoved in the back, and I sighed. "What a great day this is turning out to be," I said sadly.
"Aw, Aud," John said comfortingly. "We'll get out somehow."
"I hope you're right," I said as the police car pulled onto the highway, passing by my deserted van.
At the police station, Cyn and I showed our licenses, and were fined for not wearing seatbelts. John was fined for driving without a license, for forging a license, and a bunch of other things regarding his "claiming to be John Lennon scheme", as the police had put it.
Our fines totaled to over $400. We emptied our pockets, Cyn paying most of it. "Bloody police," John commented.
After we were released, I hopelessly asked, "How are we supposed to get my van back!?"
Cyn shrugged and John said, "I suppose we could hire a cab." John raised his arm and yelled, "TAXI!"
A yellow taxi cab pulled up in front of us and we got in, telling the driver the whereabouts of my beloved VW van.