Tuesday, October 16, 2012

In Bed, By The Book He Never Read



I was offered what I first thought was going to be wonderful deal: A renovated motel room in the Burns, Oregon area...for the winter.

But that deal never materialized.

Instead, I watched a group of adults (with the exception of two) sink into an alcohol-fueled oblivion.

And as the empty beer cans stacked-up, the work in the room that I was supposed to occupy (before November 1) stopped.

Yesterday was the last straw.

The man, who is supposed to manage the motel, faced the morning (the photo, above, was taken at 10:15 am) passed-out in bed, with his dog. He ignored his phone and customers who came to the door. And when he finally got up...he walked by me and slammed the bathroom door,  HARD!

That did it.

I knew that he wanted to take his attitude out on someone. He chose me. That was a very bad decision.

I walked down to what will never be my room and took this photo (below).



I think this photo represents the real man who pretended to be my friend: Dirty, broken and only halfway open.

Oh, I'm sure that the renovations in #23 will be finished...eventually. But that room will most
likely go to "Mama" or to the "manager", himself.

But it won't go to me.

Instead, I will go down the road and celebrate my freedom: a precious treasure that will never be tied to a brewery, a cigarette, a hidden agenda or anything artificial.

2 comments:

Juli Henry said...

You could write a sequel to that post: In the red, because of the rooms he never booked.

Ruthie Rader said...

Here, here.

He's caught in the *Hic* of things, isn't he?