Tom Hanks - Uncommon Type - Some Stories

All that fortune and your idea of fun is dressing up like a poor mortal with no fashion sense. I can arrange this to be permanent. Just give me all your money and you’ll live happily ever after.

F.X.R. runs around to the passenger seat, trying to hop in over the door. He lands in a heap on the front seat, one foot hooked on the door.

Gangway for adventure!

She hits the gas and the car spins out and away, spewing dust and gravel.

MUSIC: “I’ve Been Everywhere” by Hank Snow

EXT. HIGHWAY 88—LATER

The Buick chugs along down the highway. F.X.R. smiles into the wind.

I should get out of that penthouse more often!

Two weeks ago you were boogie boarding on the Great Barrier Reef!

To see America. Don’t see enough of my native land. Open road. Big sky. Asphalt ribbon with nothing but a dotted line and the horizon. I love this country! God help me, but I do love it so!

(then)

It’s good for the soul to come down from the mountaintop sometimes, Ms. Mercury. Otherwise, all you see are the tops of mountains. I should put that in a memo to all the employees.

Do that. It would inspire us all.

(then)

So, where are we going, cochise?

Sending a message from his Watch to hers…

Here. A little town called Phrygia.

(he tries three different pronunciations)

Population 102.

WATCH: Photos, facts, information about Phrygia…

Formerly a major stop on Route 88 that once billed itself as America’s Hospitality Capital. Let’s see how hospitable they are to the likes of us.

Before you buy up every square inch and acre.

(studying her Watch)

Oh, hell. This drive will take us hours! I’m gonna fry!

EXT. A HUGE SIGN—Faded, ancient, with broken neon tubes and peeling paint that says motel olympus…

Still barely visible are the large figures of a man and woman, both waving to nonexistent traffic, calling out in sun-bleached letters “Stay with us!”

MUSIC: “Que Te Vaya Bonito” on an accordion

SUBTITLES IN ENGLISH OF THE SPANISH LYRICS

EXT. MOTEL OLYMPUS, PHRYGIA—DAY—SAME

Nothing at all like its namesake in Las Vegas…Nothing at all.

Like the sign, the Motel Olympus has seen better days. The best that can be said of it? It’s clean.

The MUSIC is coming from JESUS HILDALGO, who plays the final bars of a song so beautiful it even sounds great on an accordion.

SUBTITLES: “But no one will call me a coward

Without knowing how much I love her…”

An old couple—PHIL and BEA (yes, that’s them on the sign)—applaud as Jesus packs away his instrument and loads it into his old pickup truck.

Talent like I never seen!

Every time you play I find myself all misty . You have a gift, Jesus.

You make me feel so good, Mr. Phil and Mrs. Bea. You have always made me feel I was at home.

That’s because you have been, Jesus. You’ve been at our home.

Good luck there in Chesterton. I hear they get benefits galore at that windshield factory.

Thank you. I will come back to see you many times. I promise I will.

BEA

Bring us a windshield you made yourself.

Jesus climbs in, and the pickup truck pulls out of the motel lot, honking. Phil and Bea watch the truck disappear down the road. They are quiet for a moment.

There goes our only guest. One less bed to make.

Lord, am I going to miss him playing that ’cordine.

Sixty-two less dollars a week. Why would anyone want to leave this little spot of paradise to live in a podunk burg like Chesterton…

Oh, stop serving crab apples. Do some weeding.

Phil sizes up the woman he married. The woman he still finds so very beautiful…

Don’t treat me like some hired hand.

(then)

Unless you wearing that pretty dress means you want to play Seduce the Hired Hand.

You go out there with the weedwacker and flex your rippling muscles, maybe I’ll get all heated up.

Tell you what, woman. Give me twenty minutes to clear the south forty, then meet me in room 10. I just might be naked in the shower.

It’s a date.

A Buick convertible is coming down the road, its turn signal blinking.

Hold on. Looks like we have guests.

Rats.

(shouting)

Come back in an hour, folks!

The car pulls in to the motel. Hey, it’s none other than F.X.R. and Ms. Mercury! The top is still down.

He is smiling. She looks like hell after driving three hours in a convertible with the top down. They pull right up to Phil and Bea.

Howdy!

Howdy-do?

Howdy-do to you.

How-diddly-dee-dooty-do.

(all “folksy”)

As you can see, we happen to be weary travelers who have been on the road too long.

With no sunblock.

We seek a respite from our journey. You know—some real hospitality.

How about trying a motel of some kind?

Know any good motels around?

Well, let’s think here. Motels. You need a motel…

Best motel in the world is right here on the outskirts of Phrygia. Called the Olympic or the Olympian or something.

F.X.R. looks at the faded sign.

Motel Olympus!

That’s the one.

Ms. Mercury! Motel Olympus! This is fate!

Ms. Mercury wants out of the car and into a shower ASAP.

It must be. This parking lot screams destiny .

Welcome. I’m Bea. He’s Phil. Stay with us!

These two adorable old folks immediately freeze in the positions of the sign behind them, complete with waving arms.

F.X.R. and Ms. Mercury share a look. Phil and Bea have not moved. They are still frozen in their “sign” position. They remain so. For a beat. Then another.

And another.

So, do you have a vacancy?

(breaking her pose)

Nothing but.

INT. MOTEL OFFICE—SAME

CLOSE ON:

A faded photo from fifty years before—young Phil and Bea, in that same pose. Obviously the model for the sign back when it was constructed.

The office is clean and cozy. F.X.R. inspects the photo as Bea prepares the paperwork.

If it seems like you have the place to yourself, you do.