Song: Hotel California Artist: Eagles Lyric Thief: Marys Hansen

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
my head grew heavy and my sight grew dimmer
I had to stop for the night

There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
and I was thinking to myself,
'this could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say…

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely face)
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year, you can find it here

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

So I called up the Captain,
'Please bring me my wine'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since ninteen sixty nine'
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middles of the night
Just to hear them say…

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely face)
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise, bring you alibis

Mirrors on the ceiling
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax', said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive,
You can check out any time you like,
but you can never leave'.

By Marys Hansen

Dan Mangan tossed back the last of his Mountain Dew and threw the empty can into the backseat. There it joined the other ninety-nine. He had originally wanted to perform this ritual with a hundred bottles of beer, but the cans of yellow liquid had been substituted when he and Mart had discovered that going beyond ninety-seven beers put old Dan over the legal limit.

Still, the buzz of the Dew was impressive, and Dan was pleased with just how far outside of Sleepyside the cans had gotten him. He would have to stop for a bathroom break soon, but if his odometer was to be trusted, he had already traveled upwards of 3,000 miles. The gas tank would need refilling, too, then. (He had been a little unsure about the modifications Mrs. Belden had made, using only a bobby pin and a piece of bread soaked in milk, but her guarantees had proven to be trustworthy - 25 mpg city, 3500 highway.)

Dan turned the radio up and rolled the window down. A cool wind blew in from over the dunes, ruffling his hair as he drove down the dark desert highway. He sniffed deeply, trying to identify the smell all around him. It was warm, sweet … Colitas! That's what it was. (But what was - or were - colitas?) Satisfied, the young man pulled his head back in and settled once more behind the wheel, while the gazelle he'd just pancaked went to a better place.

The seventh and coolest B.W.G., having just finished high school back in Sleepyside, New York, and wanting some time to himself while all the other club members - 17-year-old Brian Belden, 16 to 17-year-old Jim Frayne/Wheeler, 15-year-old Mart Belden, who used to be Dan's age, and Honey Wheeler, Trixie Belden, and beautiful Diana Lynch, who were all the same age, that much was constant - completed their seemingly endless journey through adolescence, had borrowed Brian's jalopy and headed out of town.

He was thinking about his friends and neighbors, who were dedicated to helping others and having fun, and who sometimes claimed their motto was "one big family," when he saw something up ahead in the distance. It looked like a shimmering light of some sort. Noting that his head was growing heavy and his sight was growing dim, Dan hoped that he wasn't about to be abducted by aliens. His underwear was full of holes.

He was relieved to find that the lights belonged to an old hotel, and he decided to stop for the night. Turning off the engine and thereby killing the old Eagles tune blaring from the speakers, Dan surveyed the broken-down structure before him. A woman stood in the doorway and the sound of a church bell echoed into the night. From so far away the woman was just a vague outline - she could have been Trixie or Hallie, for all he knew. When the chick lit a candle and beckoned to him Dan decided to get out of the car.

He grabbed his bag and followed the mysterious woman into the house, straining his ears to try to make out the words coming from the corridor.

"So this place is called the Hotel California?" he asked.

The woman didn't answer, but led him through the halls with that one lone candle for light. He looked around, noting that the furnishings in the hotel were expensive, pretentious even. He shrugged to himself. As long as the beds were comfortable, he didn't care about anything else.

They walked along in silence for a long time, Dan amusing himself with an imaginary conversation about mustard seeds and time paradoxes, when the woman suddenly pointed and said, "Those are my friends."

Curious, he glanced out the window and saw a well-lit courtyard, where several young men were dancing. His glance turned into a stare when he realized he recognized some of them. He flew to the window and tore open the sash. Ben Riker and Nick Roberts were there, performing some sort of line dance with a couple of Hardy boys. Dan shook his head violently, opting to continue down the hall with the woman rather than talk to the pretty boys outside. He hoped they hadn't seen him.

"Whoa!" Dan stopped abruptly and waited for his hostess to turn back. "Let's check this room out, shall we?" He rubbed his hands together gleefully and led the way into the room he'd almost passed.

She followed him into the hotel lounge, where a disfigured old man sat in a wheelchair behind the bar. Neither the woman nor the bartender spoke, but Dan wasn't surprised. He went ahead and ordered a glass of wine. (Anything except Mountain Dew, right?)

Beep. Beep. The old man stared back at him as a light on the front of his wheelchair flashed twice.

Dan blinked. "I'm sorry?"

The woman with the candle translated. "Mr. Pike says we don't have that. Not since 1969."

"Ahh." Dan nodded as if the answer were not both unbelievable and … unbelievable. "Well." He smiled at the woman. "Why don't you just show me to my room now? And what the *$#@ is that noise? Those people could wake the dead!"

He expected no answer from the crazy lady and got none. They finally reached a room at the end of the hall, which he entered gladly. Muttering under his breath about surprises and alibis, Dan threw his jacket on a chair and himself on the bed.

"I shoulda stayed on the pie-shaped wedge," he said to himself. Seriously - he was staring up at his reflection, thanks to the mirrors on the ceiling. "I wonder what the other Bob-Whites are doing."

He closed his eyes, imagining the gang. Brian, Jim, and Mart were at camp by now, acting as junior counselors to dozens of overprivileged boys. Trixie, Honey, and Di were probably swimming or horseback riding or raising Bobby for Mrs. Belden. Good times.

A knock at the door awoke Dan. He rubbed his eyes and sat up quickly. "Who is it?"

The mysterious candle-bearing woman pushed open his door and rolled a cart in. Apparently a demand for identification passed for an invitation around these parts.

"Pink champagne on ice?" he asked incredulously.

She sat next to him on the bed and grabbed his hand. Her eyes darting this way and that, she hissed, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device!"

Dan stood as calmly as he could and detached the woman's claw-like grasp. "Yeah," he told her. "It's been great, but I gotta get going."

He left her in the room and headed in search of the front desk. It was time to see the manager. The hallway seemed much longer than he remembered, and after a while he realized he didn't recognize anything. He could hear other guests behind the doors, though, so he decided to find out if they knew how to get out.

The first door he knocked on was opened by someone who looked exactly like Mart. In fact, the first thing he said to him was, "Mart?!"

The fellow nodded and went right back to doing what he had obviously been doing when Dan had interrupted. He picked up a dictionary and began studying.

"Dude." Dan advanced into the room and waited for the … dude … to look up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Studying. If I don't know these words, I might as well give up. Did you have any idea that floccinaucinihilipilification had two c's?" He went back to his reading and Dan escaped.

The next room was occupied by a Honey lookalike. "Why, hello," she said sweetly. "Come in. I'm just trying to sew some outfits for the lady down the hall, and my friend's children are waiting for me to read them a story, and my boyfriend asked me to cook him dinner, and my mom wants me to plan the social event of the season. What can I do for you?" She waited with a saintly smile for him to give her some work and no gratitude.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I must have the wrong room."

"It was no trouble," she assured him as he hastened to the next door.

No one answered his knock, but Dan figured he had to see what lay beyond. This was kind of fun. He pushed open the door and peeked in. A Diana clone sat in front of a mirror brushing her blue-black hair with one hand and applying makeup with the other. She didn't take her violet eyes off her reflection, so Dan was spared the need to speak to her. He simply closed the door and traveled onward, curious to see who was next.

"Brian!"

The dark-haired gentleman looked at Dan with a worried expression. "Do you realize that I need a score of at lease 30 on the MCAT to even be considered by Queens University?"

Dan raised a hand to his ear in the universal symbol of deafness. "No hablo," he yelled loudly as he ran away.

"I gotta get out of here," he muttered as he jogged down the hall. He turned back for one last look at Brian and neglected to see the rope stretched across the floor in front of him. His foot stumbled against the trap and he took a nosedive into the paisley-patterned carpeting.

"Dan?"

Dan looked up to see Jim approaching him. He was wearing a red plaid jacket and a Davy Crockett-type hat.

"How did you get caught in my rabbit snare?" Jim took off the hat and scratched his red head. After a second of pondering, he threw the cap down on the floor. "Fine woodsman I am!" he said in disgust, bending down to retrieve the rope. "I forgot to put out the carrots!"

Dan bolted when he saw he freckled hand reaching out to help him up. He ducked into the nearest room and shut the door.

"Who are you and what do you want?" demanded a nosy voice.

Dan spun around and faced Trixie - or anyway, a Trixie twin. Or anyway, a Trixie almost-twin.

"Oh, hey, Dan," she said warily. "Why aren't you out chopping wood? Did something happen? Did that mysterious stranger come back?"

Of course, Dan thought to himself. Trapped in a world of mysteries. Poor Trix. And if I know my Trixie, she's also stuck in a world of -

"Did you happen to see Jim?" she asked as she blushed to the roots of her sandy hair.

Jim worshipping, Dan concluded. Aloud, he said, "Yep, he's there. Well, listen, I gotta go. I just took a break from, uh, chopping wood, so I could get a glass of water. I'll see ya." He opened the door but turned back to her with a determined look. He had something he'd been wanting to get off his chest for a long time, and he figured now was as good a time as any. "Say, Trix," he asked, "have you ever noticed how Jim isn't as honorable as he says he is?"

Trixie's blue eyes were round above her snub nose. "Why, Jim's the most honorable boy in the whole world," she breathed. "Sure, he may live off the Wheelers' money while his own fortune sits in the bank. Sure, he may have boats and cars and horses that he didn't earn the money for himself. Sure, he may take all-expenses-paid vacations while hired hands do the work around the Manor House. But James Winthrop Frayne II knows how people should live their lives - and I for one am going to follow his rules!"

Trixie's blond curls were practically standing up on her head, and her cheeks were flushed. She ended her speech with an emphatic nod.

"Okay, well … see ya." Dan shrugged and went once more in search of the front desk. When he came to a door marked, 'Western Golden Publishing,' he had to investigate.

"Hello," he called out as he pushed the door open. "Anybody home?"

Sitting around a large table were all the people he'd encountered in his long journey down the unfamiliar hall - even Trixie, whom he'd left only seconds before. She was exchanging fond looks with Jim, who was wearing, get this, pressed jeans and an expensive cashmere sweater. Mart was clowning around for Di, who was batting her false eyelashes and smoothing down her hair. Honey was serving everyone's food and obviously hoping Brian would smile at her, but Brian, the poor sap, was checking the blood pressure of every person in the room. Dan was surprised by none of this, of course. Disturbed, maybe. Saddened, definitely. He just wished Captain Pike were there, so he could ask for whatever was on tap. (As long as it wasn't Mountain Dew, right?)

No, Dan wasn't surprised. Not even when he watched Ben, Nick, Frank, and Joe carry in a large serving platter and set it down with a flourish. (As the flourish involved pirouettes and assorted other ballet moves, Dan was, no doubt about it this time, disturbed.) When everyone pulled out steely knives, he became a little nervous, but he really couldn’t say he was surprised. When Miss Trask, wearing nothing but a pair of sensible shoes, arrived on the scene, certainly he was repulsed. But surprised? Nothing that woman ever did surprised him. When she lifted the lid off the serving platter, revealing the Beldens' lovable-but-possessed-by-the-devil Irish Setter, Reddy, Dan didn't bat an eye. But when the guests, after half-hearted attempts at ending the miserable beast's life, threw down their knives and instead hugged the dog, Dan gaped.

"You people will never change!" Dan announced. "I'm OUTTA here!" He ran for the door, hoping this time he'd get it right, and find the hallway he'd come through in the first place.

"Whoa, whoa," chuckled Tom Delanoy, reaching out a hand to stop Dan. "Slow down. Relax, relax. No one leaves this room until they've been given their assignment."

Dan looked down at the little man and practically growled. "What's that supposed to mean? I can't check out?"

Tom chuckled again. "Of course you can, Dan," he assured him. "You can check out any time you like. But until Miss Kenny says otherwise - " Here the friendly chauffeur lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes - "you can never leave."

"Like *$#@!" Dan shouted. "I didn't sign up for this! You can't keep me here! Get out of my way, Tom. I'm leaving."

"No," said a little voice behind him. "I'm afraid you're not." Six-year-old Bobby Belden stood in the center of the master's chambers, his fat hands clasped before him. Down his chin ran the remnants of a peanut butter and crabapple jelly sandwich.

Dan stared at the little brat for as long as he could stand it, then he had to look away. Bobby seemed to understand.

"Oh, I see," he lisped. "My unnatural appearance is too grotesque for you." He stepped closer to Dan and lowered his voice, waiting until Dan once again met his eyes before he continued. "You were the one person in Sleepyside who never fit into a category, who never stayed one character for longer than a couple of weeks, who never stayed one age. You, Dan Mangan, the one who escaped so many ridiculous vacations, so much unrealistic drivel. Oh, yes," Bobby laughed. "We'll keep you. We'll keep you." With a gesture, Bobby instructed the others to take Dan away.

"Wait!" Dan shouted as the Hardy Boys hauled him out the door. "Bobby, I can help you!"

"Stop!" Bobby's command stopped Frank and Joe in their tracks. "Explain," he ordered Dan.

"If you let me out of here," Dan promised, "I'll get you out, too. All of you!" He looked around the room to gauge their reactions.

Hope was reflected in everyone's eyes. Well, almost everyone - Ben Riker seemed a little worried about what he would do without his troupe.

"Do you mean," Honey asked tentatively, "that I could … yell … at someone?"

"I could drop out of school and become a musician?" Brian queried.

"I could get fat!" Diana announced happily.

"Yes, yes, all of that and more," Dan assured them. "Just let me go. I will free you."

"Freedom!" Mart cried. "Freedom!"

Trixie joined in, and was quickly accompanied by the rest of the Bob-Whites.

Bobby held up a hand. "Wait," he said quietly. Then, more loudly, "Wait!"

The shouts gradually faded.

"How will you do this?" Bobby demanded. "How do you propose to free us from our lives, as created and maintained by a merciless publishing house and a group of Kathryns who can't agree on anything, not even Jim Frayne's eyes? HOW?"

The group before him waited breathlessly for Dan to answer the question. They leaned forward eagerly as he opened his mouth, and chewed their lips as he began to form the words. There were just two:

"Fan fiction."

"Fan fiction?" They pronounced the words slowly, as though sounding them out.

"Sure!" Dan answered. "It's done wonders for me. Thanks to people like Zap, and my personal favorites, Pat and Moon-Spinner (who's been missing for far too long now), not to mention Shana and Sjaye, I've become a whole new Dan. Sometimes," he said with a wink Trixie's way, "I even get the girl. So trust me, guys. I'll get you out of here."

"I trust you," Bobby stated simply, with a nod in the direction of his followers. "We will send you on your way. But first - " he snapped his fingers and Captain Pike appeared, bearing a tray full of drinks. "First, we will drink to your journey. Everyone, please - have some tranya."

Captain Pike's drooling face stared at Dan as a long string of flashes and beeps came from his wheelchair.

"Oh, yes." Bobby nodded. "Dan, Captain Pike says - "

Dan held up a hand. "I know what he said, Bobby. And I couldn't agree more."

The room erupted in cheesy laughter while Captain Pike's chair chortled in contentment.

When Dan drove away that night, heading back the way he'd come, he did so with a sense of purpose. He had some peeps to contact and some friends to rescue - and a whole new case of Mountain Dew to get through. What he left behind him was … hope. Hope for a future full of birthdays and romances and new generations of Bob-Whites.

Author's Note: Yes, there is more than one reference to Star Trek here - they just seemed appropriate somehow. I'm sorry if I've ruined a good song for anyone. If there are any questions, or any criticisms even, let me know. Molnikhan@yahoo.com