Standing By

Midnight Munchies

(Mitch)

I was pulled from sleep by my stomach screaming for food. Opening my eyes, I tried to figure out where I was and why I wasn't in my cozy comfy warm bed at home. Oh yeah. Hotel. New York. Christmas program. And...

I rolled over and smiled at there sleeping figure next to me. I couldn't believe how lucky I was. I'd told Scott how I felt—and he felt the same way. He actually loved me. For all my quirkiness, all my crazies, all my hangups, all my moods, all my flaws, he actually loved me. He could have any man or woman he wanted, but he chose me. Of all people, me! Feeling a happy tear spring to my eye, I patted it away. Unconsciously, with my left hand. Oof. I ended up smacking myself in the cheek with my cast. Ouch times two. Times three if you counted my rumbling tummy. I had to find something to eat here. I leaned over and kissed my sleeping best friend—boyfriend—on the lips. It may have been my imagination, but I could swear he smiled slightly.

I climbed out of bed and picked up the key he'd just thrown on the floor in our haste earlier. Hopefully I could find at least a vending machine. I pulled my pants on, hating that it took me a good five minutes now, with one hand out of commission. Crap. I could zip them but not button them one-handed. Well, maybe just zipping would work. I took five steps and realized it definitely wold not work—with each step I made, the zipper crept down and the pants slid over my hips. Oh Lord.

I finally just ditched the jeans for a pair of sweatpants from my room. There. Problem solved. I grabbed my wallet and ventured out into the abandoned hallway. What, nobody else had the 3:00 AM munchies?

I checked the lounge to see if any food had been left out. A fortune cookie, those crunchies, anything. I just needed sustenance. Nope. Nada. Scott's and my dinners had been picked up. Like a stupid hungry idiot, I glanced in the trash can for them. Nope. Hmm. Wonder where they went to. OK, let's find a vending machine. I meandered around our floor for a little while but only found an ice machine and a self-service laundry room. Damn it. OK, lobby is getting a sloppy Mitch then. Surely, somewhere, there had to be a vending machine.

Feeling like I pretty much had the hotel to myself, I took the elevator downstairs. My eyes immediately lit on a cantina by the front desk. Hey, that'll work. Pretzels, candy, chips, fat, fat, fattening. Hmm. Refrigerated section. Yogurt. Maybe. Sandwiches. I reached out and studied them for a minute. Turkey and Swiss sandwich, made December.... what was that number? I squinted at it and ran a finger over the date. Nope, still smudged. I picked up the only other sandwich. Also turkey and Swiss, made the smudge of December. Helpful. So helpful. I tossed it right back and gave the first one a good once-over, turning it over and around, inspecting it through the cellophane. I sniffed at it, then peeled the wapping off and sniffed at it again. It didn't smell bad, but still.... I didn't want to get sick or anything. I glanced at the front desk, where the late night receptionist was playing on her phone. Hell, I could give her something to do.

"Excuse me," I said politely, shaking the sandwich in the air. "Miss?"

"What?" she mumbled, trying to shove her phone out of view.

"I have a question. When was this sandwich made?" I flipped it over. "See, the—"

"Should say on the label—oh!" she suddenly shrieked, making me drop the sandwich. Good thing it was wrapped up tightly.

"M-miss?" I asked uncertainly as she continued to stand there and just shriek. What the hell was wrong with her? She sounded like a sick prairie dog barking away.

"Eeek!" she squealed again. She pointed wildly at the sandwich that I'd just picked up. I dropped it again like a hot potato.

"What the fuck?" I squealed right along with her. "What? What?" Fearing there was a bug on the sandwich, or that it was so glaringly obviously a rotten sandwich and I just hadn't noticed it in my starved sate, I pushed it away.