And This Is How I Accidentally Slept With A Naked Homeless Guy On Drugs
Have you ever had something happen in your life, that is just so far out of the “normal” category, that it doesn’t even seem real?
I’m speechless, and that’s really saying something, if you know me.
“Um, this place looks scary” I hinted.
“I’m sure it’s fine, and it’s cheaper than all the other places” he assured me. And although I didn’t believe him, I was making an effort to remember that I am not always the most fun person to travel with, since my Uptight-Planner-Bossy-Bitchy side comes to the surface when I’m feeling uncomfortable being out of my daily routine.
Not feeling very satisfied with that answer, I turned to the next set of ears that might listen to me. “It looks haunted!” I whined to my husband. “It looks exactly like the set of every scary movie I have ever seen in my life, and I don’t want to go!”
He laughed at me and pulled the laptop over to look for himself. “The Ellison Suites were built in 1913, and later, were renovated into apartments” he read aloud while scrolling through the pictures. “Well, I mean yea they look old, but I’m sure Mr. Attorney Man wouldn’t take you anywhere unsafe,” he assured me.
And a few days later, I was on a plane to LA.
The two of them were in the front seat, Mr. Attorney Man wearing a backwards hat, grinning from ear to ear, listening to his California playlist, and I was in the backseat trying not to be strangled by my own hair and bracing myself for the moment a large rock would fall off one of those scenic mountains and end me.
There were signs, people. Actual signs staked up and down the roads, alerting me to the fact that this might actually happen.
ALL OF THE FEARS.
Arriving at the hotel, and checking into my room, I was greeted by some flowers my husband had sent, congratulating me on making it there alive.
After breaking them out of the packaging with nail clippers, and then putting them in the ice bucket, I found Mr. Attorney Man and His Better Half perched on some cushy chairs at the bar, where I collapsed into one next to them; Just in time to join in on the conversation about how we could smell the California fires burning down everything around us.
At least I’m pretty sure that’s what it meant.
Eventually we parked in someone’s driveway, and made our way through the front gate to the hotel.
The friend who when no one listens, goes into the basement with them anyway.
Hell if I know. Seems fitting.
Finding our room and stepping inside, we were left speechless, until His Better Half uttered “this has got to be a joke.”
We laughed, we giggled, and then we opened the bathroom door and shrieked in hysterics. There were stairs leading up to the bathroom, and it was designed that way, because the bed pulled out from underneath the bathtub.
A bathroom trundle bed, or as we began calling it after His Better Half got in it and closed herself up into the floor, a “hide-a-friend” bed.
Then we went to check out their room, which to my amusement, was entirely decorated in Jim Morrison gear.
Laughing once again, I opened a doorway while still looking at His Better Half, and promptly tripped and fell.
Isn’t it amazing, the moment when you suddenly realize how smart, and stupid, you are?
We got some cheap wine, cried our way down the rickety halls, and drank it out of the Jim Morrison cups that were in the room..
Attempting to get comfortable on what felt like a bed made out of patio cushions, we snuggled with pillows that we had chilled in the refrigerator, and took note of every creak, every shadow, and every sound outside. And because we were already on edge, of course there was screaming. A type of screaming where whoever screamed first, would scare the other one into screaming twice as loud. Repeatedly.
This went on — the screaming and snuggling with frozen pillows — until a naked homeless man began climbing in and out of the dumpster next to our window, and we began jumping out of bed every 28 seconds, to make sure that he wasn’t trying to get inside our room.
It was just then that a text came in from Mr. Attorney Man saying “we are leaving in the morning,” so I can only assume that he was equally unhappy, passing his time with good old Jim.
At some point close to 2 or 3 am, we fell asleep, and then woke up at 5am when my alarm went off, and we realized that we were both covered in a super attractive rash.
Since I’ve been home, Mr. Attorney Man has sent several text messages, apologizing for the hotel stay, but I’m honestly not mad at him because he’s dead to me he didn’t actually do anything wrong. Things happen, and at the end of it all, at least I was able to leave LA with a few good memories…
…and this blog.
Edited to add:
*This was not a sponsored post, but I wanted to disclose that Hotels.com did eventually make things right with us, so if you do need to book a hotel, I would highly recommend using them. Especially since The Ellison Suites still has our money, and we are now left fighting it out with the credit card company.