Travel Advisory from the big skeezy

Before I start, let me tell you that today is going to be much better, I just know it. I'm conscious of whinging a lot lately, and I have no doubt that today or tomorrow I'm going to have a mad cool peace love and happy post for you. Bear with me. Biegnets and chickory coffee are first on the list, followed by some probably really cool stuff, and some definitely cool walking around. Oh yeah, I'm in New Orleans.

Anyway, I booked in LA for 2 nights and 2 days because I was supposed to have 2 installs, only the second one canceled and it was really expensive to come home early so here I am. The first night of my trip I spent in a town called Thibodaux, which is a small town an hour away from NoLa and had limited options for lodging, but when I checked the pictures on various websites (why do I fall for this every time!?) I decided that hotel B looked like the best bet so I booked it.

I was set to be arriving in Thibodaux at 8 pm or so airport time and transport calculated in as part of the equation, and I figured even if the hotel was bad, it wouldn't be the worst place I've ever stayed (see last trip to LA, which still wasn't the worst I've seen), and anyway the pics on the website looked kind of cute. It was a little weird when I got there, which took longer than planned because in the Bayou the streetlights are not so much, and turns you're meant to take aren't necessarily all marked (which reminds me belatedly that every time I get a rental car, I think "Gee, I get lost a lot. I should get the GPS next time" and yet next time comes and I never do. Huh.)

So I arrive into the lobby, where some dude is hanging out with the desk girl, sees me and leaves and she thanks me because he was creeping her out. You're welcome Little Lady, I do what I can. She's checking me in and creepy guy comes back and she's all (loudly and super helpful) "ok miss. Just one guest, you'll be in room 123" and I'm all "Did you just announce to the creepy dude that I'm here alone and tell him my room number? Did you, Judas? Did you just do that? Really? I'm going to tell him you think he's cute when he comes to kill me." and I take my stupid key and run away, because for real, homeboy was a creep. If he worked there, I would have been very outwardly virtuous and respectful and inwardly waiting for him to start talking to his dead mother.

The hotel helpfully doesn't number the room doors, so you just have to drive around sort of guessing where you're at and getting out every 10 ft or so to check the 2x2 inch sticker under the window to see where you're at. So that was fun, or exciting at least, because people sure are friendly around here. Every time my car pulled up, someone flung open the door. I don't know who they were waiting for, because it wasn't me and I got a lot of doors slammed in my face even though I made a point of smiling. When I finally find my room I see a "lounge" across the way called The G Spot. Wanting to turn my frown upside down, wanting also to stop having work trips where I spend my night in hotels in the ghetto watching NCIS and fearing for my life, and having also recently been reading blogs of people who make the most of such trips, I decide I'm going to mosey over to the G Spot for a beer, because 1) I sure would love a beer, and 2) what a story. I can picture me telling my boss that last night I tipped one back at the G Spot. Oh what a lark it would be, telling this story.

So I give myself a pep talk about being a hermit and not sucking, throw my gear into the room and set out across the parking lot. I'm about 10 ft from the door when I notice they're hiring dancers, which heightens my ever present misgivings, and since I'm not really looking for a second job I decide maybe I could just have a beer tomorrow and that tonight I should stick with plan A which is watching NCIS while I fear for my safety. As a joke, I get into the room and I'm all "ha ha, let me look for bloody hand prints on the back of the bathroom door" and the joke immediately stopped being funny because:

Fucking seriously? Do I collect dead hookers or something?

So, I know that my sample size is small, but I feel comfortable saying that a crime has taken place in every hotel in Louisiana and I have the research to back it up.

I slept fully clothed, knife and phone in hand, because I'm crazy and more than a little neurotic and that's how I roll and in the A.M. I wake up alive and mostly refreshed and head for the shower....which has no water. I would have found that out last night if I had felt comfortable leaving the door unguarded but that aside, I wander down to the front desk and tell the girl and she gives me another key and says "go shower next door" I do love a problem solver, but friends there is not much that is creepier than being in a totally empty hotel room, with none of your belongings or anything. I was totally waiting to be stabbed through the shower curtain, and when that didn't happen I wrapped up and moved on back to my own room to get ready.

The clinic, as they most always are, was pretty awesome and so I'm always reminded of why I end up in the ghetto when I see the clinic running and helping people out and then the day was all better and I trucked back up to NoLa for hotel room number 2, which I already knew was not in the greatest area but was supposed to be decently nice. It's a motel 8 and while it won't be winning any awards anytime soon, it appears at least to have been painted since the last time a hooker was killed here and I felt pretty good about that. I threw my gear down again, had another mental argument about being a hermit and went down to the front desk to talk to the dude about where to eat around here. He directed me to Lucky Jean's seafood and I tried people, I really did. But I was a bit conspicuous in my work clothes and I totally felt weird and then there were signs saying "NO SLEEPING IN LOBBY" "NO SLEEPING IN DOOR" and inexplicably "DO NOT FALL" and again I decided that exploring by little girls in strange cities is best left for daytime, so I ran back to the hotel and ordered a pizza. Being so tired from sleeping with one eye open the night before, I actually did get a decent night's sleep and now here I am, up at crazy early EST time and plotting my day. As I said biegnets and chickory coffee are first. That being done I may check out the D Day museum based on a very enthusiastic recommendation from someone at the clinic, and then the NoMA if I can get in. I'm waiting to hear about whether I can standby on an earlier flight home, but I also am not sure if I want to. I really do want to have some sort of nice time in a strange place for a change instead of always having to run right back home and shower because I'm so glad I'm alive.

So stay tuned, because the next thing I write will be something about how much fun I had. I just don't know how long that will take to happen :o)