Tim Dorsey - Gator A-GO-GO

“They kick you out, too?” asked Andy. “What?” said Serge, sticking a key in the trunk. “Kick you out.” He pointed at the fifth floor. “We just got tossed for something we didn’t even do. What’d they get you for?”

“Get us for?”

“Why else would anyone check out at this ungodly hour, unless-”

“Oh, right,” said Serge. “Kicked out. Assholes! We should Molotov the office! What do you say? It’s looks really cool at night.”

Another student put his hands up passively. “All the same, we don’t need any more problems right now.”

“Just joshin’,” said Serge. He smiled. Then he didn’t. “Wait. Your voice… Do I know you?”

“Doubt it.” He grabbed a door handle.

“Damn it!” City yelled from the backseat. “Will you fucking get in already?”

“Hold that thought.” He looked back across the Challenger’s roof. His eyes suddenly lit. “Melvin! You’re Melvin Davenport!”

The student released the door handle. “How do you know my name?”

“Melvin!…” -thumping his own chest-“… It’s me, Serge!” Melvin squinted. “Serge?”

“We played catch when you were a kid. Don’t you remember?”

“No, I remember. It’s just-”

“Almost didn’t recognize you either.” Serge looked the kid over. “Wow, you really squirted. What? Six-one, two? But barely a buck thirty. Don’t fret; you’ll fill out soon enough. How’s Jim?”

“Dad’s fine.”

“And your mom?”

“Seriously pissed at you.”

“Still?”

“Probably strangle me just for talking to you like this.”

“Hoo, they really don’t forget.” Serge shrugged. “But that’s the whole point of college: Doing everything that would give your mother ten heart attacks. Speaking of which, I was only half-kidding about the Molotov. You in?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Good idea-it’s like forever getting that gasoline smell off your hands.”

“What the hell’s taking so long?” yelled City.

“Relax! Doesn’t Country have a joint or something?” Serge turned back around. “Sorry. Chicks.” He gestured up the empty street as pot smoke curled out the Challenger’s back window. “So where you heading?”

“No clue,” said Melvin. “Still hasn’t sunk in that we’re out on the street.”

A grin spread across Serge’s face. “Got the perfect idea. Swear you won’t regret it.”

INTERSTATE 75

AHertz Town Car sped south through the starry Georgia night.

An exit for Robins Air Force Base went by. Raul opened a suitcase and passed out guns again.

“Keep those things down,” said Guillermo, letting off the gas and watching the speedometer drop to the posted 70 limit.

“What’s the matter?” asked Raul.

Guillermo glanced in the rearview. “We got cops.”

A Crown Vic with blackwall tires blew by in the left lane. Behind the wheel: “I just hope we’re not too late,” said Agent Ramirez.

One hundred and fifty miles southwest, a ’73 Challenger sped through empty farmland. It picked up I- 10 in Tallahassee and headed east out of the Panhandle.

“Breaker, breaker…”

“ Is that you, Serge? ”

Serge brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth again and looked in the Challenger’s side mirror. “Coleman, you’re supposed to say, ‘That’s a big ten-four, Captain Florida.’”

“ Captain Florida’? ” Coleman said into his own walkie-talkie from the backseat of a New Hampshire station wagon.

“That’s my handle,” said Serge.

“ What’s mine? ”

“How about ‘Lord of the Binge’?”

“ Has a nice ring. ”

The Challenger sped down open highway, followed by the station wagon and a Dodge pickup with Gator bumper stickers. They passed Live Oak, fifteen miles before the interchange with I-75, where a Crown Vic took the westbound ramp onto I-10.

“Breaker, Lord of the Binge…”

“ That’s a big ten-seven. ”

“Looks like we got us a convoy!”

The three-vehicle motorcade continued east, seeing no other cars for miles. Then:

“Breaker, breaker,” said Serge. “Smokey, eleven o’clock.”

Everyone cut back their speed as a Crown Vic driven by Agent Ramirez flew in the opposite direction.

“We’re clear,” said Serge. They sped on, approaching the I-75 cloverleaf, where a Hertz Town Car passed them going the other way toward Panama City Beach.

SUNRISE

“This is Maria Sanchez with Daybreak Eyewitness Action News Seven. I’m standing here on the crystal white sands of Panama City Beach as the sun peeks over the horizon and a number of college guests appreciating our wonderful community are up extra early to take in a morning stroll… Here comes one of them now… Sir, can you tell us what you’ve enjoyed most about your visit?”

“I don’t know where my hotel is. And I’m really drunk…”

Nearby, a packed Pontiac with Ohio plates arrived on the famous strip.

Ritual beers popped. “ Spring break! ”

Like so many others, the students had just completed another marathon drive that began in the snow the previous morning. They crossed the Florida line two hours before dawn and hit city limits at first light. Another impulse trip. “Who needs reservations?”

Budget motels lined the opposite side of the road from the beach. They stopped. Nothing available. Then the next. Full. The next. Sorry. And so on, until they reached the end of the strip. “We should have made reservations.”

The Pontiac turned around and headed back, this time trying the more expensive hotels on the gulf side. Same story, again and again. Looked like they’d have to head inland and find something north of town. They passed the Alligator Arms. Red neon under the sign: NO V ACANCY.

A passenger in the front seat turned around. “Did you see that?”

“What?” asked the driver.

“The ‘No’ on the ‘No Vacancy’ sign just went off.”

“Maybe it burnt out.”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

They parked out of view from the office, so the rest of the students could hide.

The manager looked up from his newspaper as the door opened. One of the kids pointed behind. “Saw the ‘no’ go out on the vacancy sign. Is that for real?”

The manager nodded and came to the counter. “One room left. Some other kids decided to depart early.”

“How much?”

“How many staying in the room?”

“Just us two.”

“That means at least five.”

“No, really.”

“Hundred and seventy a night.”

“What!”

“You’re not going to find another place for fifty miles.” The students pulled back from the counter and talked it over. Then nods.

“Okay, we’ll take it. Let me go out to the car and get some more money from the other three guys.”

The sun rose over the hotel roof as five Ohio students rolled luggage from their car.

Next to a newspaper box, someone sat on the curb with his chin in his hands.

“What’s the matter?” asked one of the students.

“No place to stay.”

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

“Really?”

“Wait a second,” said a second youth. “Why are you inviting a complete stranger to stay with us?”

“Because he’s the midget.”

They took the elevator several floors up and headed down the landing toward room 543.

SOMEWHERE IN NORTH FLORIDA

Another beautiful morning.

The ’73 Challenger barreled east on I-10 as a rising sun burnt off dew. Close behind, a woody station wagon and a Dodge pickup. They reached a junction in Jacksonville and headed south on 95.