HALL PASS (OUT)
His eyes were burning from a long drive through treacherous winter weather. It had started out as clear roads and clear skies but an hour into his journey South, the skies started a slow motion stroboscobic dance between sunshine and gloom. A half hour after that, there was snow.
For the last four hours, he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, rocketing towards his destination. In the open fields to either side of the highway, swirling whisps of snow funneled up from the smooth blanket of snow. Streamers of white poured over the large banks that lined the highway, obscuring the road with malicious intent.
When he finally pulled into the rutted parking lot of the motel, a long gasp of breath escaped from his chest. He had made it, possibly in an oxygen-deprived state, and he was relieved. He stepped out of the car and paused to watch an enormous passenger jet slowly sinking towards the nearby runways at the international airport.
He grabbed his bags, slinging one after another over his shoulder: laptop, backup laptop, luggage, paperwork, presentation materials. Loaded to bear, he waddled penguin-like into the hotel and up to the front desk.
Within ten minutes, he was in the elevator and slowly inching upwards towards the tenth floor. With a soft ping, the brass coloured doors slid open. He stepped out into the corridor and oriented himself quickly before heading off towards his room.
The hallway lurched, and he stumbled into the nearby wall. He righted himself quickly, unsure about what had just occurred, and a sudden wave of dizzying nausea crashed down upon him. He blinked rapidly as he stumbled into the wall again. He felt his luggage sliding from his shoulder and slowly lowered it to the ground.
His equilibrium was off. He could tell that he was upright, but the entire corridor seemed to be shifting, twisting, to the left. He took one last step forward and the corridor slowly faded out into a small black pinhole.
He felt like he was floating, a euphoric sense of swirling bliss. Then he felt the impact. His entire body reverberated in slow motion.
He was on the floor, a pile of bags by his feet. They were his bags, he realized after a moment, discarded moments, or minutes before. A tall pale woman stared at him from the end of the corridor, a curious mile playing on her face.
He slowly got to his feet, gathered his luggage, and walked the remaining distance to his room. It had been a long journey and he was looking forward to some rest.
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