Another school break. You mull over vacation ideas and go through the invisible phone book in your head of friends who are... nonexistent. Forever alone... you sigh to yourself. You are tired of being snowed in your desolate midwest college town and decide that it is time for a change. You unlock your phone with face recognition and check your bank account... Luckily you are a savvy saver... but you are a little bit too cheap for a lavish island get away.

You lay on your loveseat which ironically has only been able to seat one person... you. Your family is preoccupied with work. Work work work... You're sick of it! You desperately scroll through Amtrak destinations on Google.

Maybe you could go home for the duration of your college's break to see your family. You reminiscence about the last time you saw your family for holiday break. The entire time you were busting your ass making pizzas. Your family owns a couple of Jet's Pizza chains in the midwestern state you grew up in. You aren't even Italian, but you worked hard rolling dough and slinging sauce onto hundreds of pizza pies. You grimaced, remembering coming home smelling like garlic bread and sweat, it only took four days to completely rid your finger nails of Jet's famous red sauce.

Nope. Back to the mindless scrolling.

Chicago? No, not again. You don't know the area that well and the last time you stayed there, you blew $500 on fees and taxes alone. Michigan looks like a decent state, it's not too far away from where you stay and not too expensive either. Knowing that it will still be cold since it is March, you shrug it off because you know that there is a thriving cannabis industry with little to no taxes on product. You wring your hands together mischievously, imagining yourself reclining by the side of an indoor pool high off your mind sipping CBD piña colada's. You smile; oh, the introvert you are.

You scroll through small coastal Michigan towns and weigh your options;

East or West Michigan?

East Michigan is cool, you went to a Techno show out in Detroit a couple of months ago which was highly enjoyable, underground and grungy. Dearborn was excellent too, you ate amazing food and relaxed at the hookah lounges until they closed at 2:00 AM. It was time for a change. You had never been to the west side of the state before... New Buffalo... looks like a preppy hockey mom boat town for people who wear vineyard vines and multicolored shorts. You needed something with character. What's this? You squint trying to read the name; Appassionata. Looks Italian to me, hopefully there are no Jet's Pizza chains there.

You try digging for more information on the town, and to your surprise, the only thing that pops up is Beethoven's "'Appassionata' Piano Sonata No. 23, Op 57 - III. Allegro ma non troppo". You listened to the piece... it was very dramatic. The next thing that popped up in the search bar was a place called "Hotel Proxoxie". You squinted again trying to pronounce the name. Prox... Proxox.... Prox-oxie? Must be french. You clicked on the link, and immediately it directed you to a poorly coded HTML webpage designed by a three year old, with random links redirecting you to pages that didn't exist. Huh... looks charming. Wait a second...you remembered the ominous pamphlet that slipped under your front door about a week ago.

You rummaged through your junk drawer in attempt to find the pamphlet through piles of old receipts and Jet's Pizza napkins. Aha! You waved the brochure in the air because you are dramatic. Carefully flipping through the aged, water-damaged pamphlet, you read aloud the slogan; "Check into another plane of existance!" Well that was a little quirky... They hit the jackpot on whoever they hired for the marketing, maybe it was the same person who made the website. The pamphlet didn't really hold too much information other than a few pictures of a grand ballroom, an executive suite, and a smiling bellhop and receptionist waving at the camera. You weren't sure what to make of the hotel itself, it looked dated from the pictures and it was hard to tell which decade the place was built. There was no information section on the brochure, just the bizarre slogan, a few pictures, and a price sheet of rooms averaging for $89 a night. Pretty decent. On the back of the pamphlet, there was a phone number and an address typed in a bold font.

You dialed the number (811) 329-1422 and listened to it ring, finally someone with a smooth, velvety and almost cartoony voice picked up the phone "Hello..." the voice seductively answered "This is le Hotel Proxoxie... Check into another plane of existence... and whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" Well that was strange, but at least they keep it consistent with the slogan... You answer with your name and expressed an interest in staying in one of the cheaper rooms for four days. "Excellent!" the voice on the other line exclaimed "We can hold a reservation for you, currently we are not accepting payment over the phone. Please bring cash. Thank you very much!" That's all? You asked. "Yes. Please check in with us tomorrow at 11:00 AM prompt. Thank you once again." and with that, the phone went strait to dial tone. That was weird... you thought to yourself, as they did not take down your phone number or any of your credit card information. You tried calling back, but the number went strait to dial tone. It must be a busy week for them.

With the reservation set, you did not want to miss this opportunity, so you started packing your bag for a long weekend trip. You decided that it would be easier to drive to the hotel rather than taking the Amtrack since the closet train stop was a 30 minute drive from the hotel itself. You looked more into the geography of the area, it was beautiful. It had access to lakeside trails and Michigan sand dunes. The hotel itself sat close to the water, and you held back your excitement at the thought of getting a view facing the water. You mapped out all of the local dispensaries in the area, which sadly were located in a 15 mile radius from the hotel. It seemed like this vacation just landed into your lap, and you were too in denial to assume that something might be terribly wrong.

In the corner of your eye you notice a centipede slithering it's way out of your kitchen sink...