"What Happens in Vegas"
a Short, by Erin McGechaen
LOCATION: Top of the Eiffel Tower
NAME(s): George (and Kirsten)
RANDOM ITEM: A potato
EXT. LAS VEGAS BLVD – NIGHT
“The Strip” is alive with nightlife. SEXY YOUNG PEOPLE strut and stagger down the street; cars, taxis and transit are bumper to bumper. GEORGE (23) a tall, skinny, nerdy fellow wearing a giant sock monkey costume is running down the street. He sees the Eiffel Tower, tears the head of his costume off, and heads towards it.
INT. EIFFEL TOWER RESTAURANT – NIGHT
KIRSTEN (21) an attractive brunette wearing a stunning Betsey Johnson is struggling over whether or not to pour herself the last glass of wine from a bottle of shiraz. Judging by the “moustache” she’s sporting, she’s been here awhile – and had a lot to drink. She’s sitting alone, in the corner by the window. It’s late – the restaurant is empty, and preparing to close.
A WAITER discretely slips her the bill. She glances at it, then forgoes the wine glass altogether and takes a final swig straight from the bottle. Fumbling through her purse, she pulls out a few bills and drops them on the table before standing to leave.
INT. EIFFEL TOWER, LOBBY – NIGHT
George furiously pounds the UP elevator button. He paces in front of the two elevator doors, sweat dripping down his face. A group of JAPANESE TOURISTS regard him strangely, pointing and whispering. He finally acknowledges them:
Take a fucking picture already –
it’ll last longer!
They oblige him, and start snapping. The elevator finally arrives and he steps inside.
INT. EIFFEL TOWER RESTAURANT – NIGHT
Kirsten leans against the wall, waiting for one of the two elevators to arrive; one is traveling UP, and one is traveling DOWN. The down elevator arrives first, and the doors open. The ELEVATOR OPERATOR, a kindly older gentleman greets her:
Good evening Miss. Up or down?
She stumbles inside, stifling a belch.
Are you sure? The view
Kirsten ponders this a moment, then agrees:
Yeah, fine. I’m here! What
the hell. Let’s do it!
Kirsten heaves, but swallows hard and recovers. The Elevator Operator raises an eyebrow.
Up we go. Hold on tight.
The doors shut. Moments later, the doors of the second elevator open and George comes tearing out. He searches the restaurant with his eyes – no luck. Disappointed, he turns to leave – but sees the other elevator is heading UP. His face full of hope, he heads back into the second elevator – turning to the ELEVATOR OPERATOR:
Up! Hurry! Go! Step on it!
The doors shut.
INT. EIFFEL TOWER OBSERVATION DECK – NIGHT
Kirsten is leaning against a window as George steps out of the elevator behind her. Relieved, he dons the head of his sock monkey costume and dusts himself off before approaching her.
In the window, Kirsten catches George’s reflection:
I hate that fucking thing.
Why are you wearing that?
You’re three hours late.
I know, I’m sorry.
Goodnight George – I’m going home.
Wait. It’s ten-thirty - we can
still go out. Let’s go do
This isn’t fun! This isn’t
what I signed up for! This
is bullshit! What am I supposed
to tell my friends when they
show up next week?
You tell them that you’re
working! That you’re acting!
As WHAT, George?! As what!
As a fucking fast food mascot?
Handing out flyers to tourists
all damn day? Wearing a stupid
But you look so cute wearing it.
(pulls the head off George’s suit)
No George. No, I don’t.
And neither do you.
(managing to laugh through tears)
Were you actually planning on
coming to dinner dressed in this?
I had to work late – whoever
was scheduled tonight quit,
Or something. I dunno. Ricky
was pretty pissed.
That was me. I quit.
The Japanese Tourists have just stepped off one of the elevators. They see Kirsten arguing with the giant “sock monkey” and start discretely snapping photos of themselves making peace signs with the angry couple in the background.
Oh well thanks for telling me.
Well I would have told you
if you’d called!
So what are we supposed to do
now, huh? We need two incomes.
We can’t afford to have just
one of us working.
I’m going back to Idaho.
What? Are you kidding me?!
I bought a bus ticket. I’m
George is visibly crushed.
So you’re going to give all
this up and go back to work
on your parent’s potato farm?
Seriously? Well that’s great,
Kirsten. That’s just fucking great.
Way to stick with it. You
know Madonna worked at Dunkin’ Donuts…
ENOUGH with the Madonna story
already! I don’t fucking care
if she had to stick donuts
up her cooter to make a living
– I’m not her!
In the background, the Japanese Tourists have overheard the name Madonna, and have started recreating the “Vogue” dance. George awkwardly slumps to the floor; the suit constricting his movement.
I just wanted to have an
adventure. With you. Because
I love you! Okay, so it’s sucked
so far. But it’s going to get
better. I promise it’s going
to get better.
He removes his “right paw”. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out the classic looking engagement ring. Kirsten is clearly surprised:
George, what are you doing?
She tentatively takes the ring. The Japanese tourists crowd together, watching, holding their breath.
That’s why I was late.
I had it engraved.
She examines it more closely. It READS: FOR MY FAVORITE LITTLE MONKEY. She tears up.
I’m so sorry George…
The Japanese tourists gasp dramatically, poised with anticipation.
I’m so sorry for being such
a jerk. Of course I’ll marry you!
(shouting and clapping)