Free Crack With Every Room

A: Marconi, after the harrowing escape from death’s cold clutches, decided it was time to confirm our hotel reservation for the evening. He calls ahead to the hotel where we will be staying. In asking for directions, however, he soon realizes that when he called the national reservation number this morning, the ass-tard who fielded the call made a reservation for us in AsheBORO, not Asheville. So now we have no hotel room.

Another quick phone call and we’ve secured a room at an Econo-Lodge nearby. Fine.

We pull into the lot, where the sign in front proclaims “newly renovated”. However, none of us were able to discern where exactly these renovations were. Perhaps the front desk has a fresh layer of formica. Who knows.

Marconi comes out, and waves us around the side of the building. He’s walking alongside the van as we’re slowly creeping around to find the room. It is at this moment that we start seeing what could be considered clues as to what may occur in the next few hours.

As we turn the corner, I see on the second floor top level, hanging over the railing, a shady young man of Latino descent. He looks suspicious, but relatively innocuous, and we continue the creep along as Marconi is also starting to take in his surroundings.

Then I notice the next red flag. There is a rather angry looking gentleman sitting in a lawn chair outside his room, near the first guy. He has a look that says “this is home” and consequently “I’ll kill you for being here”. Great. Good feelings about the evening are beginning to wane.

Then comes the coup de grace. Two members of the Wu-Tang Clan are perched on the staircase going to the second floor, looking real hard at the van and all of us. Clearly we have overstepped our bounds in a big way here and they’re going to let us know that just as soon as our little sissy feet hit the pavement outside the vehicle. I have seen this kind of scenario before, usually in places like Newark, and I can assure you, it’s never a good thing.

Alienwhere: “Oh, I really don’t like the look of this at all.”

Lioux: “Yeah, this is getting real shady real fast.”

Elle: [contemplative silence, followed by a *sigh*]

It is at this point that Marconi again approaches the van, and he opens the door, with a slight look of puzzlement, which quickly cements into realization, followed by understanding, followed by assessment, when Elle decides to share her feelings.


Elle: “We are NOT staying here.”


Marconi: “Ok then, I guess I’ll just go ahead and cancel the room then.”

I don’t think we’ve ever made any decision as quickly as we made this one. I promptly turned the van around, and we hopped across the street to a Day’s Inn, which was CONSIDERABLY less perilous than our first choice.

We started to think about what might have transpired had we stayed at the Econo-Lodge.

Marconi: “I think if I asked for crystal meth in that parking lot, I could have probably had a few offers.”

Lioux: “Are you kidding me? Like kids to an ice cream truck.”

Given that we’ve been losing sleep every night we’ve been on the road thus far, we would have been guaranteed NO sleep, and also that all of our gear, the van, all money we have, Elle, and our lives themselves would have been stolen.

Being on the road is fun and all, but you really have to know when something smells fishy.

L: Totally, Alienwhere! You just know when something is NOT right.