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The Chauffeur

The road to Reno stretches far ahead of us, but we all wish it is even further away then it is. I glance back. Style is working on his book, The Game. Every once in a while he reads a sentence to get some feedback. I'm sitting on the side bench staring through the darkly tinted windows at the passing space. We're in the limo.

Just a few months ago Style told me he was going to get an SUV to carry his surfboards. Always at odds with the beaten path, I persuade him to buy a 120" stretch caddilac limo instead. They're cheap on ebay. A day after he agrees to buy it we're in Houston driving it back to LA. I like people who are impulsive. It turns out to be a fabulous surf car, and a pretty great road trip vehicle at the same time.

Driving at the moment is Cliff, one of Style's friends. A somewhat macho guy who is the head bouncer at a hot Hollywood nightclub, he's the nicest guy in the world once you get to know him. They're doing a movie or TV show or something about pro dirt bike riders, and we're on our way to Reno to meet them and watch them ride. Always looking for an adventure to lay waste to my free time, I'm along for the ride.

Shafted!

I've been wanting to write this story for a while, but I can't find the one picture I have of it. Oh well, when I find it I'll just add it on to the end.

Full from dinner, we get into the elevator as we always do. The rumor is that the more likely one is to cause trouble, the higher in the dorm you're assigned. The first year I was put on floor four. The next, floor 24. I guess you could say that we became acquainted.

As the elevator brings us closer to our dorm we notice that the hatch in the roof of the elevator appears to be unlocked. We push the hatch open and stare at the dark above us.