My time at the AirBnb ran out and I was on the street. I wanted a place close to Michelle's and thought the Day's Inn, just a couple miles from her house, would be good.
I've stayed in some interesting places in my time, but what with AirBnb stoking the flames of competition, you'd think they'd have gone out of business.
At the front desk the clerk demanded a $200.00 cash deposit. No mention had been made of it when I booked online. While the exchange over the discrepancy in disclosure was unfolding, I watched a young lady make a bee-line through the lobby in a bathrobe (pool closed; no hot tub). She was followed by an overly polite (Yessir, nossir, sorry sir -- indicative of a stay in the hoosegow) young man wearing shorts (outside temp approaching 30 degrees) and a t-shirt, missing most of his front teeth (knocked out? meth?), who requested fresh towels and sheets. The clerk signaled him to wait. I asked to see the room before paying. He said I had to pay first. By the time I got the money I'd forgotten (encroaching senility).
Then came the rules.
My signature confirmed acknowledgement.
Back outside, Security, a fine, strapping, Paul Bunyan-esque fellow about 6'4" weighing (my guess) 325 pds., advised me there were lots of homeless around and I should take the propane tank & tarp off the roof...lest they disappear.
In the room, the shredded curtains and spotted chair warranted photos.
Pulling back the bedspread, I picked off some hair stuck to the sheet. Though a bit of an aficionado, I couldn't be certain if it was nose or "other," and whether the adhesive was mucus or "other." I unrolled my sleeping bag atop the bedspread.
Now, at 10:08 pm, the heater's just blowing air and I turned it off; I was hoping it'd help cover the sound of the freeway. The terlit whistles a happy tune as it flushes...but, HUURRAYY!, works just ifne. I've got muh fingerz crosst there'll be hot water in the morning.
It's only two nights; with luck it'll take longer than that for the bedbugs to realize there's prey.
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