The Hotel of Horrors

As soon as I walked in the front door, I knew something was wrong.

Maybe it was the fact that I got my shoe caught in the revolving door that had suddenly stopped. Not only did it give me a bloody nose, but it ripped the sole halfway off my shoe.

“Sir, are you alright?” asked the desk clerk in his best attempt at English.

“No, I should shove your arse off for that bloody door. Look at what it has done to my shoe?” I replied in anger, pointing to my shoe.

“What is arse,” he replied. “You wand somsing for your nouse?”

I was in no mood for messing around. A thirty-two-hour flight will do that to you.

“Just let me check in,” I replied, wanting to get to my room and have a shower. As I did, my voice was drowned out by the sound of a jackhammer deep in the foyer.

“Scuse noise, please. Wennovations happening to make hotel besser.”

“Slir, you hab room at back of hotel, velly quiet, no noise, but,” he held his words, Little difficult to get too, cause of wennovations. Hab to take suspension bridge,” pointing to a makeshift, very unsafe-looking bridge that was suspended over the renovations to the foyer.

“So slorry, but all uber looms booked. You hab discount rate at booking.”

I was about to argue with him, but thought better of it. The stingy company I worked for wouldn’t even pay for a decent room at the famous “Do Drop Inn.” It was listed as one of China’s top hotels in Waynjoyan.

“Assistants help you to your loom,” as he pressed a bell that sounded more like Big Ben than anything else. Two petite Chinese ladies came scurrying out of the back room. He yelled something in Chinese, and they both bowed.

“Dis is Yang and dis is Soo -Yong," he said pointing to each of them. “Yang hab bad back so can’t hold your luggage. Soo-Yong, friad of heights, so she need boff hands on bridge. So solly. See you for bleckfast.”

Not likely, I thought to myself. Let’s just get this over with.

Suitcase in hand, I followed them past the reception desk and a couple of chairs into a hallway. They moved quickly, and I struggled to keep up with my shoe flapping from where it got caught in the revolving door. My nose was still bleeding, and I was dragging my suitcase. All they could do was keep turning around and bowing.

Then we came to the bridge. I started praying because I was sure I would never come out of this place again. As Soo-Yong nervously edged her way onto the bridge, Yang kept poking her in the back to hurry her along.

When all three of us were on the bridge, it began to sway from side to side. I looked down, and about fifty meters below, it was a hive of activity. Workers jackhammered up the floor while others carted away the concrete fragments.

The bridge started creaking. I looked up. Two workers were coming from the other direction. They carried a large box held up by a pole between them. Soo-Yong stood there paralyzed. Yang kept poking her, but she refused to move, falling to her knees. There was no way the workers were going to get past her, let alone me with my suitcase.

They were not about to turn around and kept coming. Relentless. Getting closer to the shape of Soo-Yong now, per state on the bottom of the bridge. As they tried to pass her, the bridge sank sharply to one side. Soo-Yong grabbed the edge of the bridge's rope, and Yang fell to her knees as the bridge tilted to one side.

My suitcase lurched to the side and off the edge of the bridge. With one hand gripping my suitcase and the other clinging to the rope, I felt as if the bridge were going to tip over.

“Wake up, sir, wake up!"

I opened my eyes with a start, grabbing my suitcase with both hands. “Help, help, I am falling!”

“You are having a dream, Sir. Your flight is ready to board. Come with me. I will take you to your airbridge by the back way,” said the air hostess.

“Oh no, we're not,“ I yelled back at her. “Not this little duck!"

Till next time,

Calvin

Submitted for the "Out of the Dream Challenge":