Bates Hotel - or at least the suites version

I think I'm in a little bit of the Farside type of Bates Hotel. I didn't make a hotel reservation for tonight and figured I'd do it once I got here. After all, with all the thunderstorms lately I thought for sure I'd have a delay in Houston and get here in the morning. Alas, no, the plane was on time and I had to go to one of those kiosks that give you all the hotels that have pitched a few dollars to the airport for marketing. My usual SLC hotel was available (La Quinta), but at a price of $140 and no airport shuttle...it didn't seem like the best option. Especially since it was already almost 1 a.m. I called a few more that were booked and then found one where the call went somewhat like this:

Rebecca: Do you have a room available this evening and if so how much is it?
Lady: Yes, but it's a smoking room, but if you want it I will give it to you for $75.50.
Rebecca: Ok, that's fine. Can I make a reservation?
Lady: Yes, ok, I can give it to you for $67.50 if you would rather have that.
Rebecca: Uh, ok. Sure, I will take whatever the cheapest is available.
Lady: Ok, why don't I give it to you for $62.50.
Rebecca saying: Sure.
Rebecca thinking: Ok, yes, for the third time in this negotiation I am OK with the price! After all, it's less than 1/2 what I would have had to pay at the other places. Perhaps I should say that I work for the government and I will tell my friends about it and get another discount?

So, I get a shuttle to the hotel and it just feels like a strange part of town. Two dudes (or duds) were standing outside the main office smoking and looking at me like I picked the wrong place. I go in and a hefty pleasant gal is at the front counter talking to two different dudes (or duds) about random little things about another guy that worked there for one day and messed up everything. They couldn't figure out between them if it was the "black dude" or the "white dude" or the "tall skinny white dude" or the "short chubby nice white dude" or ....and then they changed over to how they were using the safe in their room and they would forget to turn in the key and charge the loss of key fee to the girl working at the front desk.

Ok, it's a problem when dudes (duds) staying at the hotel know the girl that works at the front desk and they don't look like they are family or business travelers.

Anyway, onward...I get my discounted rate which I sign on a special little registration card that I haven't seen since I was a little girl on those family trips where business didn't pick up part of the tab for some nights and we stayed in the cheap hotels. I guess they don't have a computer? I get my room card (at least it wasn't a metal key) while participating as an unwilling peripheral participant in this strange useless banter that really doesn't need to happen in front of customers. Then I start down the long, stagnant smokey stench of a hallway to my room. Great, they put me on the ground level. Oh, bigger great, there is a security guard with two guns walking up and down the halls. Where am I anyway?

I get into my room and the door shows it is a non-smoking room, but the stench inside is beyond my belief and so somehow it had turned into a smoking room over time. The window is wide open allowing some hint of fresh air to breeze through. OK, first floor window open in Farside hotel in Farside part of town. This should be good.

The room is actually OK, but I refuse to leave my suitcase open to welcome in the stench.

Oh no, I can't find my credit card. Gotta put the pants back on and take a jog back down to the front desk. No security guard this time. They don't have it at the front desk, but a guy in the lounge keeps eyeing me as he hears that I have a credit card missing. I think through how I will have to call the credit card company tonight and cancel the card until I feel a small rectangle item in my pocket. I kind of keep muttering to myself that maybe I did something different than usual and just walk off too ashamed to admit it's in my own pocket. Plus, it kind of makes them a little on edge that the DC tall girl is on a bandwagon that might plow through tonight. I'll let them think the worse and return to my room. Sometimes one must allow these false characterizations play out for ones own safety, right?

Now I'm getting ready for bed, but this is a nice version of a Bates hotel and so no lights will be turned off this evening. What is that little black speck on the sheet? Is it a bed bug? What do bed bugs look like anyway? I keep my bed and entire house bug free (at least from what I can see) and so I don't know. I do bug/spider patrol every day and only the Japanese beetles survive my wrath. One was kind to me in years past and so I make exceptions for them. Even though they've given me little tiny beetle bites in the past. But, I digress. Now I'm itching all over and there is another black speck on the bed. Oh, it's from my own foot...the flip flops are shedding.

Goodness, it is time to go to bed! I'm becoming paranoid! Let's hope the rest of the weekend adventures are at least safe even if a little quirky.