A return to last week-end.
So after a night on the train, two hours late to get to our hotel, we are greeted at 10:45 at the Clarion Inn and "Suites" by Robert.
Robert has been given the blue overcoat of shift supervisor. He is short-ish, seemingly well-muscled and a lot of queenie attitude. Not what you want after a trip on the train. His little hairs were slicked forward, and then turned up at the last minute. His little green thumb ring didn't match his little blue blazer. And he says to us, "Can I help you?"
"We have a reservation, Neppl."
With this, Robert does a slow, exaggerated turn to the clock - where it says 10:45. He arches one eyebrow and says, "Check in time is 3:oo."
"We were told it was possible to get an early check-in."
"It's possible...." he says and then waits a beat, "but not guaranteed." I see Ed's hands in front of the counter ball into fists - he unclenches them with work. Robert continues in his own sweet time, "Let me see."
Tick tick tick. I notice a moldy smell about the place. I notice that only one elevator is worked. I notice that we are in the "Theatre" district - which is Tucsonian for crappy part of town where the drunks piss on the sidewalk. Robert must notice Ed and I looking around. If we wait until 3PM, we will find a different hotel.
"Well," Robert says, snapping us back to his little reality, "You're lucky. Room 430."
I get Ed into the one working elevator before he physically assaults Robert. The elevator carpet is squishy with who knows what (actually the next day we saw multiple beers spilt on the carpet - so I guess we know what makes it squishy.
It is an 8 story hotel, but no one went above the 4th floor. I think it was condemned higher. It should have been condemned on the 4th floor too. The bathroom fan didn't work. No big deal, but it was right above the toilet, so as you stood there you could see into the dust and mold and varmits - while you were pee'ing. Pleasant.
Ed moved the washcloth to wash his face, and there was a hole in the counter, like someone had put a hammer through the countertop. The washcloths had cleverly covered it. and no one in this city would ever use a washcloth.
In the middle of the night both Ed and I had dreams about that ultra-violet investigation on 20/20 - and we just tried to ignore it.
In the middle of the night Ed got water from the ice bucket, and in the morning he went to get more, but notice a fuzzy thing in the bucket. He freaked out. I explained to him it was a lemon I had drunkenly put in the night before.
It wasn't a lemon, but I thought for a little while he might actually throw up if I didn't distract him. So harmless white lie to get us out of the hotel. Ka-reep-ee