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Sometimes Motels Are Scary

February 2, 2011

I've realized that adding horns to things makes them awesome. Like this motel for example.

The motel did not look promising from the outside. Of course, when you’ve just been dropped off in front of the motel by a drunken tow-truck driver because your car broke down in the outskirts of New York City, emotions do have a tendency to cloud proper judgment (or at least that is the excuse I’m claiming) because I decided it looked “promising enough.” Plus, the tow-truck driver had already peeled out of the parking lot so I didn’t have many other viable options.

My emotions said “Run! Seriously, you will probably get murdered here tonight. Look, the desk clerk is behind a bulletproof glass window. I think I saw a crack vial in the lobby. This does not bode well.” I should have listened to my emotions.

I also should have listened more closely to the discussion that was transpiring between the customer in front of me and the desk clerk. Apparently, the customer was unhappy because either: his ice bucket was extremely dirty OR the ice machine itself was dirty OR that the ice machine was making “dirty ice.”

Whatever the exact reason for the customer’s complaint, the argument ended with the customer throwing the ice bucket at the bulletproof glass window. Surprisingly, the desk clerk still ducked (I can’t decide if this means he was just a big wuss or perhaps other more harmful things had been hurdled at him previously and the ducking motion was simply a reflex).

Then it was my turn to rent a motel room. I approached the front desk slowly, giving what I thought was an adequate amount of time for the clerk to compose himself. After making the requisite hand-gestures to convey the need for lodging for “only one night” and what I can only conjecture was a refusal for a “happy ending,” I followed the clerk outside to the room.

The clerk politely opened the door to my motel room with his key. The clerk then motioned for me to go into the room. Then I asked the clerk for the room key. The clerk said “no key.”

“What do you mean ‘no key?'” I inquired of the clerk. Surely the room must have a key for the occupants, I asked myself. This is a motel right? Then I immediately thought I was the victim of some prank reality show on TV. Sadly this was not the case.

The clerk repeated his cryptic mantra. “No key.”

“So I don’t get a key for my room?” I asked in disbelief. My first concern was not that I wouldn’t have a key to my motel room but rather I didn’t know “who” might have a key to “my” motel room.

No key. I give discount.” was the clerk’s reply…

I admit, I slept like a baby that night. Albeit, I did sleep on top of some of the motel towels spread out over the itchy floral bedspread because they seemed to be the cleanest things in the entire room. I was also rudely awakened several times during the night by the pimps and hookers arguing outside my motel room, any one of which probably had the key to my room door. But if nothing else, at least the room was cheap.

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