My brother and I go back to our room for supper. Leftover bbq from the reunion! We finish and go back outside, and now the sun is beginning to set, and the Motel 6 takes on a new form of life. Many new arrivals who aren't guests, and some who are, begin pouring in. We spend some identifying the guards, identifying rooms where the drugs/money is kept, identifying rooms where the drugs are sold, and as the night went on and the sun went all the way down, the rooms where the girls are stationed to be on-call, and the rooms where they take johns. We don't get a good look at the guy in charge of this show who's bringing the girls in two at a time, but we call him Noah and watch him ferry girls for a good long time from the second floor walkway above them. We are noticed by everyone involved, but not minded at all, possibly because of their own confidence in knowing their operation is well built and guarded, but also possibly because my brother and I are about as threatening as any two stoned-up drunk dummies on a cross country road trip could ever really appear to be.
The night grows late, and we decide to make our way back to the room for bedtime. We start picking up our beer cans and as we turn to go back to our rooms, one of the girls down below gives us a farewell wave and smile. My brother laughs, and I wave back. It's important to be polite when you're not local, after all.
Before we hit the hay, I tell my brother that I think there's probably not much in terms of petty crime or car break ins around here considering the level of organized 24-hour operations these guys are operating. I tell him I bet they run a pretty tight ship when it comes to doing things that wind up dragging the police around. He agrees - but says to keep the guns loaded and out, anyway, which I find reasonable enough.
Around 3am there's a very loud, very jarring glass CRASH. I get my boots on and look out the window - no one. I tell my brother to grab the shotgun and cover me, I want to make sure that wasn't our rear windscreen getting smashed out. I check over the rail, no persons and no broken glass, everything seems ok. I go to check around the corner of the building nearest to the door and run into noneother but the two guys who have been patrolling all day - I suppose they're on call for night shift, too, as they're wearing the same uniform I am - jammie bottoms and boots. I ask them if they've seen anything, and they say no. We go to check the other side of the building and there's a great big pile of smashed glass in front of one of the rooms. We look at the window on the room where the glass came from - smashed from the inside out. Whatever was going on was going on inside, not outside, so the two guys turn on their heels and head back for their rooms. I do the same. We wake up one more time to red and blue lights flashing through the curtains, but don't hear anything else throughout the night.
The following morning, we load the car and reflect on the night before. It's not every night you get to watch a drug and prostitution hub in action. And the action never ends - before anyone else is up and moving, the morning shift guard for the downstairs drug room is on duty, smoking a blunt outside of the room. We give each other "'Sup?" head nods, and go about our day.
As we do our final triple checks for everything, the parking lot SWARMS with police vehicles. Marked, unmarked, regular patrol units, special units, all kinds of guys. At least a dozen officers bail out of the vehicles, and head for one of the rooms near the morning drug room. The morning shift guard was almost superhuman in his speed of putting his blunt out, whipping his phone out to call (whoever), and making sure the door was locked before walking away. The police get to the room theyre interested in, very casually, and knock on the door with all of the commotion and tumult of selling cookies. A very large man opens the door - a guard for the girl's rooms from the previous night that we recognize. They have a short, civil conversation that we can't hear, and then the man turns around, allowing the police to cuff him, and without saying a word walks calmly to one of the SUVs, where he still needs to be kind of stuffed in, and off they go. We don't see the drug guard come back. We start up the car and head back for the front office.
We turn our key in, thank the new, spritely woman at the front desk, and get on the road for the day.
So that's about it, I reckon. I still think about that night a lot. A lot of things could have gone a lot of different ways, and I'm kind of glad everything happened the way it did. Well, except for the part where Motel 6 stole $40 from me but I didn't realize it til I got back home, that didn't really carry the same whimsical feeling as the rest.
(the end)
The night grows late, and we decide to make our way back to the room for bedtime. We start picking up our beer cans and as we turn to go back to our rooms, one of the girls down below gives us a farewell wave and smile. My brother laughs, and I wave back. It's important to be polite when you're not local, after all.
Before we hit the hay, I tell my brother that I think there's probably not much in terms of petty crime or car break ins around here considering the level of organized 24-hour operations these guys are operating. I tell him I bet they run a pretty tight ship when it comes to doing things that wind up dragging the police around. He agrees - but says to keep the guns loaded and out, anyway, which I find reasonable enough.
Around 3am there's a very loud, very jarring glass CRASH. I get my boots on and look out the window - no one. I tell my brother to grab the shotgun and cover me, I want to make sure that wasn't our rear windscreen getting smashed out. I check over the rail, no persons and no broken glass, everything seems ok. I go to check around the corner of the building nearest to the door and run into noneother but the two guys who have been patrolling all day - I suppose they're on call for night shift, too, as they're wearing the same uniform I am - jammie bottoms and boots. I ask them if they've seen anything, and they say no. We go to check the other side of the building and there's a great big pile of smashed glass in front of one of the rooms. We look at the window on the room where the glass came from - smashed from the inside out. Whatever was going on was going on inside, not outside, so the two guys turn on their heels and head back for their rooms. I do the same. We wake up one more time to red and blue lights flashing through the curtains, but don't hear anything else throughout the night.
The following morning, we load the car and reflect on the night before. It's not every night you get to watch a drug and prostitution hub in action. And the action never ends - before anyone else is up and moving, the morning shift guard for the downstairs drug room is on duty, smoking a blunt outside of the room. We give each other "'Sup?" head nods, and go about our day.
As we do our final triple checks for everything, the parking lot SWARMS with police vehicles. Marked, unmarked, regular patrol units, special units, all kinds of guys. At least a dozen officers bail out of the vehicles, and head for one of the rooms near the morning drug room. The morning shift guard was almost superhuman in his speed of putting his blunt out, whipping his phone out to call (whoever), and making sure the door was locked before walking away. The police get to the room theyre interested in, very casually, and knock on the door with all of the commotion and tumult of selling cookies. A very large man opens the door - a guard for the girl's rooms from the previous night that we recognize. They have a short, civil conversation that we can't hear, and then the man turns around, allowing the police to cuff him, and without saying a word walks calmly to one of the SUVs, where he still needs to be kind of stuffed in, and off they go. We don't see the drug guard come back. We start up the car and head back for the front office.
We turn our key in, thank the new, spritely woman at the front desk, and get on the road for the day.
So that's about it, I reckon. I still think about that night a lot. A lot of things could have gone a lot of different ways, and I'm kind of glad everything happened the way it did. Well, except for the part where Motel 6 stole $40 from me but I didn't realize it til I got back home, that didn't really carry the same whimsical feeling as the rest.
(the end)
