The Door to Gehenna

Unwelcome in the Hotel California

“Please tell me you have something for my… pulsating headache” — a barely audible voice broke the awkward driving silence.

“They say if you live by the booze, you shall one day die from it as well. Or was it the sword? All the same in the metaphorical eyes of the liver” — the driver remarked sarcastically, cracking a mild condescending smile. “Check the passenger’s seat back pocket — if it has a bunny-like stamp, leave it alone That’s… for something else” . The driver proceeded to give a cautionary glance in the rear view mirror to make sure his directions were followed.

“What is the grey stuff?” the curios passenger began ravaging the back pocket in search for miraculous medication, hoping to end his battle with n orchestra of discomfort. “Its for … other things. White small tablet, that is your panacea. Don’t look too hard”.

“Got it.”

After palpating and ingesting the right “stuff”, the passenger was soon on the speedy road to recovery. He then proceeded o resume a sitting position. He squinted at everything. The periodic sunlight, that molested his eyesight and uncomfortably pinched his already unbalanced system, receded, becoming less of an annoyance. The leathery smell of the car crawled out of his nose and the driver himself no longer seemed like a shapeless douchbag. He was now a definitely recognizable douchbag.

“You are lucky the boss had enough of seeing your overworked ass at the office. You might be the first person who made data entry clerks seem like an exciting show. That is a deep burnout.” -a pitying sigh followed. “I want a week long vacation just for looking tired too. You are even getting paid- where is the justice? You getting drunk the night before, man, I feel insulted. I am not sure why I am even driving you right now”. The driver proceeded to complain in the similar manner as the passenger slowly tuned out. The passing trees made for one mesmerizing show, especially for one heavily drumming head.

The magical moment was disturbed by a stop sign, shining through a wooded area. It seemed like nature itself has swallowed the sign, but proceeded so slowly, that some of it was still seen. There were no roads or cross sections in that spot, so the passenger blissfully discarded his experience.

“A stop sign for bears? That’s cute.” — he proceeded to murmur to himself in secret

“We are nearly there. I think? They did say there would be a shop first. Oh yea, I can see it. Oh and you got a posh hotel. Seriously? Did you sleep with boss or something? Or does she purposely want me to be depressed? Do I have to look like a corpse for her to get me a vacation in there as well? Fuck this…”

Turning into the driveway, the full might of the hotel could be felt in contrast with mediocre buildings in the distance. With the grandiosity of ten floors spanning a great distance, it resembled a wave of finely carved decorative wood and concrete. It has not succumbed to a glass shell. Like well aged person, the hotel ominously bore it wrinkled facade on the guests, only to see them disappear in its bowels.

“That is where you are getting the fuck off, while I contemplate choices I made in life. I’m picking you up Friday. Try to be sober, ok? Otherwise I am going to accidentally forget to drive here. There is only so much fun not had by me that I can take.”

“I wasn't even drunk. But hell can I not remember what happened. Hopefully it was worth it. Then again, no embarrassing pictures on my phone and no strange text message returns. Everything probably went better than expected?”

“Don’t care. I don’t want to know you for a week. Go enjoy yourself, while I cry myself to sleep after work.”

Within minutes, the passenger was at the mercy of the hotel. His mind was willing to walk, but his body clearly protested, as each step came with a price of undesirable ring in the head. It began to feel as if he was learning to walk again. However, once he was safe on the shores of the carpeted entrance, the headache suddenly disappeared. There he was greeted by clearly too-happy-for-his-job hotel employee. She shined with an unnaturally wide smile and plastic happiness.

“Welcome to the Hotel California. Do you have a reservation I can look for? Lets start with a the name”

“Archibald Weaver, but I prefer Arch”

“Alright Mr. Weaver, you have been found”, she uttered as her grin receded. “You will be permanently staying in Room 904 for the next week?”

“Yes?”. Cue the awkward silence.

“Splendid. Do enjoy are full array of thrilling amenities. We hope you find this an enjoyable stay”. The lack of a smile soon began to bend into a frown. Arch still felt a bit of tingling behind his eyes and it felt to him as if the employee’s facial features began to slowly melt. After repeated squinting, alternating begin his key and the employee, all went back to normal.

“The best way out is straight to the left.”

“Pardon?”

“To your room. Straight, left, elevator, 9th floor. Good luck.”

Carrying his own luggage, Arch stumbled around until he reached the elevator. In his short journey he marveled at the lobby. Leather chairs and sofas dotted ever corner, with possibly fake flora filling in the space. The marble floor reflected mellow lighting and pleased faces. The room was tied with the centerpiece decorative fountain in the shape of a tree, each branch providing a path for falling water. Arch made a conscious decision to explore the hotel more when he had his rest.

One of the four elevators, with lobby doors glaring in the light, churned its way to him. Then simply and fairly automatic actions followed: grab, walk, press, stand, sigh. On his way to the heavily delight of his room, Arch tried again to recall the events of the previous night, coming up only with impressions and half-memories. Midway through his ordinary elevator ride, he noticed the disappearance of a churring sounds, replace by a scratch heard by some old recording.

“Nearly there” — he though to himself, suddenly feeling tense and uneasy.

At the highest moment of tension, the doors opened and the blissful cold air rushed into the elevator. He was out. Presented to him were directions to two opposing hallways, stretching greatly into the distance. Carpeted and walled, the lighting was provided after every two doors. Following the signs as a conformist that he was, Arch began his final stretch of the journey. There was a remarkable humming and chatter, with muted walking and door opening, but nobody in sight. He grabbed from the clutter of noise phrases of praise from the hotel guests. At last he arrived to his door.

There were footsteps and noise coming from the other end of the hallway, as he began the uncomplicated process of opening the door. Remarkably, with each passing moment the did not seem to change in volume.

“Damn, it is definitely a long hallway.” He felt the tension again. It was not the footsteps in themselves, or the fairly creepy hallway. It was a lack of change in the noise that somehow strung his primal fears of inconsistency. Writing it off as “strange”, Arch rushed into the room, unconsciously throwing his luggage into the depths of the room and immediately locking the door with both locks, even though there was no need for it.

Immediately he collapsed onto the bed. As he sank into the bed sheets, he noticed the were no footsteps anymore. It was past noon already, even though he was sure the morning had just began.

In the light of the midday sun, the pamphlet on the desk read “10 Reasons Why You Will Never Leave Hotel California”