Another Hotel
I'm driving a large car, a convertible, with Barbara in the passenger seat and Caitlin in back. We're on the outskirts of some city, and a pickup truck belonging to some lawncare company is in the other lane. The interstate is getting more and more complicated, looping back on itself, exit and entrance ramps sprouting to the left and right, and over and underpasses braiding their way across the urban landscape.
Without warning, the left lane changes direction, and the broken
white line dividing it from the lane we're in abruptly changes to
double-yellow. The lawncare pickup swerves to avoid on-coming traffic,
and I have to hit the brakes to keep from rear-ending it. Barbara and I
agree: it would be prudent to get of the road. I take the next exit,
which is marked Downtown St. Louis
.
St. Louis,
I declare. I love St. Louis.
I don't love
St. Louis, particularly. I've enjoyed St. Louis when I've been there,
but I wouldn't say I loved it. But I just did say it. I wonder
why.
The town isn't much like the St. Louis I know. (It's like a different
city standing in for the real St. Louis.) When we get downtown, we find
a hotel and pull into the parking garage. The parking garage is crowded,
and the layout is nearly as complicated as the interstate system. We
spiral up, following PARK
signs, passing row after row of cars,
looking for an empty spot. After a few circuits of the garage, we're
forced to leave the keys with the attendants. One of them, a grad
student at the university, shows us the way to the hotel lobby.
After checking in, we board the elevator. It's big, as big as a whole room, itself. In fact, it's appointed like a room, with framed prints on the walls, a desk and bed, and guests staying there. They don't seem to mind that we've come in to be taken to our room. There's no elevator music, but the TV provides background noise during the ascent.
Our room, when we get there, is unsatisfactory. It's a hotel room, but subtley and indescribably off. There's no way we can stay there. Barbara mentions a room we passed on the way up, one with an open door. We gather up our luggage, and make our way back down.
The room is empty and acceptable, though we worry that the hotel may assign it to someone else while we're staying there. The student who had showed us the way to the lobby tells us that it will be no problem.
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