It took no time to find suitable accommodations albeit at the only hotel in town. An overpowering scent of flowers and candy assaulted me as I opened the door to the place--a scent all but unbearable except that I had taken two anti-nausea tablets to quell the expected mal de mar of my bus ride. The man behind the counter, a middle-aged man with eerily smooth skin and too much product in his hair, saluted me much the same as the bus driver. I wondered if this were a local custom. I approached the counter, rolling my suitcase, valise in hand.
"Have you got a reservation?" he asked, and I replied the negative.
"Not to worry, we have plenty of suites available! How long will you be staying with us?"
I didn't know, exactly, and told him so.
"Well that's perfectly fine. I'll just need you to make a deposit up front and you'll be all set!" I did that, signed the appropriate paperwork, and was given a key on a bright pink flowered keychain.
"Let me show you to your room," he entreated, but I declined, instead leaving what little luggage I had with him at the reception desk while I headed out to have a look at this queer little town. I could already tell that something wasn't quite right here. I left the hotel with a deep sense of unease, though from what I couldn't possibly say.
 timcats · Sun Aug 02, 2009 @ 12:40am · 0 Comments |
