I headed up from the pool to the lobby to ask when check out
time was and hopefully get some tips on a place for dinner.
At the same time I entered the motel lobby from the pool
area, a young couple was leaving through the street front doors, shouting something
back behind them as they slammed the door.
Ethel (according to her nametag) was still displaying her digit, putting
the capstone on whatever argument they all just had. I later learned that Ethel was the head
housekeeper and Tonya, at the end of the counter, was her assistant. Tonya was also an expert marksman (oops,
marksperson) and was to be avoided.
They all three looked at me.
“Yes?” Frederic said.
“I was wondering if you might suggest a good place here in
town for dinner.”
“Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to eat at the same place
as them two – goddam hippies ‘s what they was if you ask me…” Ethel said.
“There’s a diner just down the street, past where they had
the swim meet protest last night.” Frederic
said. “And, they don’t make you check
your firearms at the door.”
“That’s a good sign.”
I said, not wanting them to think I didn’t have a firearm. “Ok, thanks.
When’s checkout?”
“You’re not plannin’ any trouble are ya?” Ethel said, scowling. “We deal
with troublemakers.”
“No, ma’am.”
“11 am. Just make
sure to take all your weapons and ammunition when you clear the room.” Frederic said, working on some paperwork, not
looking up.
“O k….well, later
then…”
It’s always something…
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