The breeze whistles up Lea’s short-short plaid skirt and brushes goosebumps over her thighs. The skirt is short because she works at a bar, and plaid because that supposedly fits into the bar’s English pub theme, even though Lea is pretty sure plaid is more Irish or Scottish or something. She was supposed to go to Scotland with Brian last year, but that was right before she realized she didn’t like Brian anymore. He always smelled like stale popcorn (he took tickets at the movie theater), and whenever he and his friends showed up at the bar, he made sure to slide his hand up her short-short plaid skirt.
Lea thinks about all the disgusting things that have touched her thighs thanks to that skirt. Pleather seat cushions sticky with cheap beer and sweat. Sprinkles of someone else’s urine that she’d missed in the bar’s dingy light when she wiped the toilet seat. And so many fingers. Not just Brian’s fingers (although they were pretty disgusting, stained yellow by the fake butter), but also sad-old-man fingers. Perpetually-unsuccessful-gambler fingers, too, grimy with the dust of one-dollar bills.
One of my favorite things about traveling--writing special PTKY stories from those locations! I had a great time in Vegas. The weather was idyllic, I met lots of awesome people, and, would you believe it, I even won $15 after putting $1 into a slot machine at the Bellagio. The trip was too short, by far.
And of course, my darling Chicago welcomed me back with 26-degree weather. At least it's sunny out. Anyway, there will be stories from Vegas from now until Friday. (I wrote them all on the plane rides back). Enjoy!