“Yeah, like she literally just picked me up on thestreet.”
He laughed me offdismissively.
“I’mserious.”
The guy’s amusement subsided as he responded in a highly skeptical voice, “You’re telling me a complete stranger got you thiswristband?”
The escort was so amazed that he actually ran his finger over it, looking on with awe as if he’d just witnessed the birth of baby Jesus. Okay, now he was starting to creep me out. I’d never seen anyone so fixated on a plastic band.Get adamngrip.
“You have no idea what that is, do you? Dude, you’ve got the goldenticket.”
* * *
Ifollowedthe procession of jewels down a dimly lit hallway. It took two strapping helpers to carry my bounty to the secured locker, and they did it with hushed excitement. I was, after all, musical royalty… or at least, that’s what they all thought. Okay, I wasn’t proud of the deception, but how was I to know they were going to assume certain things about me? I’d done nothing more than wander into a room of riches when people started throwing free shit at me – expensivefreeshit!
Closing my eyes and opening them again, I checked to make sure my wristband was still securely in place. That was my connection to everything and my only way back to her. As long as that plastic band was on my wrist, Emma was real, and this entire unbelievable day I was experiencing was still very much alive andkicking.
“Here we are, Mr. Perry. We’ll put your items in the storage unit, and you can collect them whenever you see fit,” she said, handing methekey.
“So I can leave my stuff in here all weekend ifIwant?”
“Certainly. Some choose to keep their items here until they can get their staff to come collect them and bring them to their buses. I’m assuming that’s how you’d prefer itaswell?”
I nodded, not trusting my words. Never good at lying, I was feeling the familiar stab of regret for deceiving her; but today had spiraled out of control, and I really was just a victim, albeit a damn lucky one, of mycircumstances.
Letme back up and explain how I came to need a storage locker for my loot. Or how I came to have any loot at all. Entering the music festival as an average Joe was totally different from entering the festival as a virtual celebrity. Whereas no one had met my eye earlier before sending me packing, when I walked in with the golden ticket, suddenly I commanded a boatload of respect. It became instantly clear that I wasn’t part of the normal cattle call that typically defined my everyman existence. For the first time in my life, I felt special, and I had to admit, it was a pretty nice feeling. Was this how Emma lived her life? If so, we weren’t even in the same social stratosphere. Maybe that was why I was having such trouble reading her. She was from a genetically enhanced aliennation.
Because I planned to spend the evening searching for Emma and charming the pants off her – literally – the daytime hours were open for exploration. I quickly discovered that when the world was your playground, it was difficult to decide what to do first. I spent a couple of hours being shuttled by golf cart from stage to stage, slipping into the backstage areas and chumming around with the musicians I’d just watched perform. Doors were opened for me right and left. I was allowed in the green rooms and treated to food spreads and free alcohol. A few hours of this treatment and the spoiling was already getting to me. I was feeling pretty damn full of myself. Jesus, how did people survive celebrity status without becoming giantdouchebags?
With my newfound love of luxury, I naturally gravitated toward areas that promised more of it. Signs for the VIP area pointed the way to the holy land, and I followed them with purpose. Yes, now that I was a Very Important Person myself, I felt a sense of duty to find my people. My excitement came to a screeching halt, though, when I stepped foot into the expansive collection of tents. Was this the best they could do?For mypeople?
I’m not saying it was terrible, and certainly it was better than having to spend my day roughing it with the ‘normals,’ but VIP treatment should have been more than just air-conditioning, seating for the main stadium concerts, and upgraded porta-potties. I mean, would a little caviar havekilledthem?
Still, it was fine for cooling off, and since I assumed Emma wasn’t the type that liked to sweat or get caught up in freakish desert dust storms, this was most likely the area I’d find her in. I should probably get comfortable. My eyes zeroed in on a wine barrel filled with half-sized water bottles. From what I could tell, it was the only freebie available. The thought occurred to me to write a strongly worded letter bemoaning the lack of amenities. Scooping up two ice-cold waters, I chugged them down before picking up two more and shoving them into my backpack for future use. I never got the point of baby water bottles. It always took two to fill me up, so I might as well have just drunk one regular-sized one. Maybe I’d add that to my letteraswell.
I strolled around, searching all the faces for Emma, even though, like a twin separated at birth, I felt certain that I’d sense her presence when shewasnear.
Passing by a door guarded by security, one of the men stopped me. “Were you looking for the privatearea,sir?”
“Um…” I stumbled a bit. “Is that, uh, somewhere Icouldgo?”
The security guard appeared taken aback by my question, but after checking my wristband, he opened the door and let me pass. It felt as though I was entering through the gates of heaven! You could almost hear the harps playing. My god, the tented area I’d just come from was but a smoke screen… a way to trick festival-goers into buying expensive VIP tickets with the hopes of hobnobbing with the rich and famous. But in reality, the actual Very Important People were hiding behind a fortified door rubbing shoulders with oneanother.
Standing there in shocked surprise, I blinked in the wonder of it all: an expansive hall decorated with white furniture, ice sculptures, and fragrant flowers. Now this was more like it. It became instantly clear that the ultra-exclusive Private Area was the place to be if you were a person of any significance, such asmyself.
Immediately I recognized several famous faces, but celebrities were not the only ones behind these closed doors. So were the rich and powerful. It was obvious just by their clothing and the way they held themselves that they belonged in here. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling so full of myself anymore. That pesky entitlement that had plagued me all day fizzled out as I looked down at my dirty, grubby clothes. Well, it was fun while itlasted.
Glancing around nervously, I waited for someone to kick my everyman ass out of there; but no one did. In fact, other than a few patrons giving me curious looks, no one seemed to be too bothered by my presence. And if they didn’t care, then I was going to milk the place for all it was worth. Grabbing a plate, I was dismayed to discover everything on the buffet table was miniaturized. Again, this went back to my issue with the half-sized water bottles. What the hell was the point? Why did rich people have such a boner for tinyportions?
Shaking my head, I filled my plate with a variety of tiny sandwiches and shrunken baby corn on the cobs. I felt like a giant in the land of littles as I took wee bites out of the bread and gnawed around the cob as if it were an average-sized corn.It wasn’t until I saw some guy shove an entire telescopic corn in his mouth that I realized what an idiot I’d been. Well, shit. Were you supposed to eat those little thingswhole?
Giving up on the dollhouse portions, I headed over tothebar.
“What can I get foryou,sir?”
“Just a beer,” I answered, as I dipped in my pocket for some cash; and then remembered there was no need, as I’d died and gone toheaven.
The bartender popped the top and handed me a bottle. Free of charge, as always. I was starting to see a pattern forming. Apparently the richer you were, the more freebies you got. Too bad it wasn’t like that for ordinary folk… you know, the people who might actually benefit. Shoving a couple dollars into the giant glass tip jar, I went onmyway.
