I will take a shower for the first time since Richmond. I am supposed to share this hotel room, but I will take all the shampoos and soaps for myself.
I will meet two men who hate their jobs with passion. But in order for me to do my job, they will have to do theirs. We will count hundreds of t-shirts together. We’ll count CDs and books and koozies. I will not care as much, as this is our last show. I will leave everything in their care.
I will go down to the casino floor. I will lose $50. I will get flustered when the scantily clad waitress asks what I want to drink. I will order a Miller Lite. I will forget that casinos give out free alcohol and I will regret my decision to order a Miller Lite.
I will cash out with a .15 cent balance.
I will go to the buffet where the staff eats. I will feel out of place because I am not wearing a uniform. I will get fried shrimp even though I hate seafood. Everyone I know will have to leave, and I will eat by myself. I will go back in line for French fries.
I will wander throughout the casino. I will buy a magnet that looks like a martini glass. I will go on to the bus, which became home over the course of a couple of weeks. I will take pictures of myself in the mirror. I will try to organize the rest of the merchandise that I stashed in various places. I will get lonely and go back into the casino.
I will get stopped in the hallway. I will be asked, “Do you want to two-step, sweet girl?” I will get an impromptu dance lesson backstage. I will smile because I made connections with people I never thought would be a part of my life.
I will forget all their names.
I will drink bourbon and ginger ale behind the scenes. I will be called out to the stage by a man who stars on a TV show that will get canceled. I will bow with a cast, a band, and a crew. I will laugh. I will be happy. I will find a picture of all of us on Twitter.
I will haphazardly throw what’s left of the t-shirts into a box. I will fill out the forms and I will get a check that I will forget to take to the bank for a few days. I will say goodbye to the two men who hate their jobs and I will never see them again.
I will raid the dressing rooms for alcohol that I will put in the private stash that I have been building for 18 days. I will sit in the back lounge, drinking beer and doing paperwork. I will try to stay up, but I will fall asleep in Delaware and will wake up in Virginia.
It will be raining. I will be sad because this will be over. I will never have this experience again.
But I will take a t-shirt to make me feel better.
I will stare out the window. I will listen to the sound of the rainy highway. I will hear the sounds of the crew in the front of the bus. I will be mad when the toilet breaks, filling the tight space with rancid odor. I will look up on my phone where we are because I will have no idea. I will eat one of the several giant bags of M&Ms. I will wish that it could last for another day.
I will enjoy this moment.