An Open Letter to the Couple in the Next Room

Help! I’m trapped in Vegas hotel hell

Dear Couple in the Next Room,

I was almost asleep when you came in. I heard a loud BAM followed by some heavy breathing. I dazedly sat up trying to remember where I was, because for a minute there I forgot I was in this god-awful hotel room in Vegas. But now it’s all coming back to me. So, fuck you very much for waking me up and reminding me that I am staying in Disneyland for adults.

I’m seriously done coming here for work conferences. I know it is cheap and accessible. But I would rather be anywhere but here. A dentist’s office would be more appealing than this place.

I lie back, dazed and confused, but you aren’t going to let me rest. Oh no. Because next, you trip over something as you stumble across your floor. I’m betting those were your pants. Or each other.

I hear a laugh. Well not exactly a laugh. It is more of a high-pitched, never-ending squeal. I’m thinking one of you must be drunk, because it sounds like there is a farm animal in there. I’m not ruling anything out, because — hello this is Sin City — and apparently people are into all kinds of kinky things here.

And then there is silence. I’m jubilant. Maybe you have passed out? Time for me to get some shut eye. Unfortunately, that short interlude was my imagination playing tricks on me.

Because my walls start to shake now. If I wasn’t in Vegas in a room next to you, I’d swear I was in the middle of an earthquake.

But I am in Vegas and that is your headboard banging into my wall over and over again. It’s getting louder with every thrust. I’m assuming you don’t have a baseball bat, so you must be going for gold.

I grab a pillow to put over my head. I’m not sure why I thought that some goose down and feathers would block out all that racket you are making.

Seriously folks, can you hear yourselves?

I grab my headphones and try to drown you out with some soothing music.

Only now it sounds like Enya is getting whacked with that headboard. I turn the volume up higher.

But putting a hole in my wall isn’t enough for you, is it? No. Because now you are moaning and grunting like two bona fide porn stars.

Which gives me pause. Because maybe you really are making a porno next door and that is a film crew moving all your furniture around.

But then I slap myself. Because it’s 2AM and I tell myself they have studios for that stuff.

I put my headphones back on and bide my time. After all, you can’t go on forever, right?

Wrong. I hear you take her up so high that she is in falsetto range. I figure you’ve done it. You’ve scored your touchdown. But then you both start up all over again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Oh my god. Please make this end.

You’ve been trying to do the deed for two hours now. How long can you go on?

And then it dawns on me. This must be Tantric Viagra sex. You are a drunk couple in Vegas trying to have Tantric Viagra sex.

Either that or you just don’t know what you’re doing. Seriously, please read Chris Kokoski’s article on how to give a woman a blow job already. It’s not rocket science.

I really want to knock on your door to tell you to shut the fuck up. But that would mean getting out of bed. Plus, I truly fear the visual that will greet me when you open your door. The picture in my head is bad enough. One of you is on Viagra and the other is a barn animal of some sort. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I decide I need to call the front desk. But how do I lodge a complaint against you? Because if I tell them you are bothering me with your Orwellian sexcapades, they will very likely roll their eyes. This is Vegas after all. So no, I can’t call the front desk.

You’ve put me in an awkward position here. I’m stuck listening to you with no recourse and no place to go. I’m in my own personal Vegas porno hell — all because of you.

So, fuck you. I’ll be ordering you a wake-up call tomorrow morning at 5AM. And because you seem to like repeat performances, I’m going to ask the front desk to make sure they give you another call every 15 minutes after that until you are just as awake as I am now.

And if I see some of the players from that marching band convention that is in town, I’m going to have them pay you a visit bright and early as well.

After all, I just want to make sure your stay is as pleasant as mine has been.

Fake kisses all around,

Courtney