Day 166 - Hotel Story

Hotel Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

It was Thursday; Saul was fairly certain that it was Thursday. He had been in the hotel room for over a week now. He had meant to spend one night in the hotel. He accomplished that goal and then some. He had checked in on a Tuesday. He was fairly certain that at least a week had now passed.

Saul downed the last drops from his vodka tonic and looked for the bottle. He didn’t see it at first. The bottle was on the floor, empty. He didn’t remember finishing the bottle. He would have to order another. Ordering bottles of alcohol from the hotel bar was getting expensive. He would have to try to find a convenience store that delivered.

Saul was going broke while staying in this hotel room. He had no exit plan. He was only supposed to be there one night. But that seemed like forever ago. He had become trapped in this room, and it was bleeding him dry.

He had been out on the open road, traveling across state lines from Nevada into Arizona. He had stopped for one night and meant to hit the road the next morning to continue on his way. He was somewhere in Arizona, outside Flagstaff. Maybe. He didn’t think he had passed Flagstaff. He was terrible about looking at maps.

One night. That was the plan. Then he was on his way. Back out on the road. The wide open road. But then the next day Saul couldn’t leave. He decided he had had enough of the road and wide open spaces. He decided he enjoyed his four walls and locked door. It made him feel safe. It made him feel at home.

Everything he could want was just a phone call away. He had a roof and a bed and a bathroom and decided he didn’t need anything else. It was to be a life of ease and convenience. When he was hungry, he would order room service. When he was bored he could watch the TV. When he was lonely he would make a different sort of phone call. His hotel room would become his castle, and he would be king.

All of a sudden Saul had become a self-diagnosed agoraphobe. There were no panic attacks, but he couldn’t muster the will necessary to make himself leave. He decided he would never leave this room. Life was too simple in his hotel room castle. He had no idea how to make this work, but he wasn’t thinking very clearly. He had convinced himself this was a good plan and he was sticking to it. He didn’t mind the cost of the room, but he was pretty sure it was the incidentals that were going to kill him.