#most of my terrible decisions are based on 'well it'll make a good story someday'

[halliewriteshockey]

The Murder Motel

I alluded to the experience I had last night but I didn’t give y’all the full details. I feel it’s only right you should hear them.

So in true Cool Kid fashion, I did not fully plan my hotel stays in advance. I did book a hotel in Roswell but then I realized I wasn’t going to get there before midnight. It was eight pm and I was exhausted, and Roswell just wasn’t happening.

I canceled the Roswell hotel with a lovely agent and then I turned to the Priceline app. “Priceline!” I said. “Find me a hotel in San Angelo, since I’m 20 minutes away and need a place to lay my head for a night! Oh and they have to take pets.”

And Priceline did its thing and found me a hotel. The Red Roof Inn, which should have been my first clue. Why is it red??

The parking lot was nearly empty, which should have been my second clue. The only vehicles were a rundown Chevy that looked like it had given up on life in general back in the sixties, and a few utility workers’ trucks. There were two gentlemen sitting on the second level, both of whom could have been anywhere from 50 to 80. It was hard to tell through the smoke surrounding them.

But the hotel was cheap. And it took pets. And I was very tired. So I went inside and got my keys from the night manager, who looked about as Done™ as the Chevy in the parking lot. He told me the room number, I thanked him, and pulled the car around. I grabbed Pepper first, because she’s skittish and a lot of movement scares her, and I had her in one arm as I tried to get the door open with the other, just as the manager came hustling across the parking lot waving his arms frantically.

I paused, baffled.

“Is it clean?” he demanded when he was close enough.

The door chose that moment to recognize the key card and unlock, swinging open to reveal two completely stripped beds and a pillow with an absolutely terrifying stain on it. (RED, THE STAIN WAS RED.)

I looked at the manager. He looked at me.

“I’ll get you another room. Stay here.” And off he went.

I gingerly closed the door to the probable murder scene and Pepper and I waited. As we did, some guy with his pants around his knees sauntered up to the back door of the lobby, knocked, and waited. The manager opened the door, took something from him, and gave him something in return. With one incurious glance at me and my squirming tortoiseshell kitten, the sartorially-challenged individual left.

I stood there and evaluated my life choices.

Finally the manager came back with a different set of keys, just down the row. I thanked him and moved the car. When I opened this door, the overwhelming stench of rotten eggs immediately smacked me in the face. The room itself was clean... mostly. But all I could smell was the damn sulfur in the water.

The bathroom light fixture was missing a bulb and also most of its parts. The wallpaper on the ceiling was peeling off in great swathes. The toilet groaned like it was in agony when it flushed. I chose to forego a shower, since I didn’t want to reek like rotten eggs for an entire day in the car (assuming I survived the night and wasn’t shanked for pocket change).

The bed was... well, I’ve slept on concrete that was softer. I literally took every single pillow and made a sort of pillow topper and tried to sleep on that and it was still like sleeping on a brick.

The only thing the room had going for it was the brutally efficient air conditioner, which was cranked down to 62 degrees and could not be changed. I can only assume this is to preserve the bodies of the victims after the murdering has taken place.

Somehow, though, I dozed off (after throwing every deadbolt known to man), and when I woke up, a roach scuttled hurriedly away off the end table by my head. Possibly it was sizing me up for its next meal.

I grabbed the cats, slung them in the car, and burned rubber out of there. One very quick visit to Starbucks for much needed caffeine, and San Angelo was in our rear view mirror, and Priceline and I are going to have a serious talk about the kinds of hotels it suggests for me in the future.

#Michaela writes #why did I stay? because it was cheap and I was exhausted next question #and also because it made a pretty great story imo #most of my terrible decisions are based on 'well it'll make a good story someday'