THE GYPSY CHRONICLES – Thursday, October 23, 2025
“ You have to be out today by 11 am. ” I gasped and looked at the time, 10 am.
“ Scooter told me he extended it until Sunday the 26th.”
“ He didn’t call us. He has to call us. We need the room for the monster ball. Get a hold of him.
I was shaken. I had one hour to reach Scooter. I called in a panic from the lobby and left a message. Then upstairs, I desperately looked for a hotel to take me in, in case Scooter didn’t call. They were booked tonight, but could take me tomorrow. The hotel was a two-star, no Mortons, no restaurant, no gardens, but it looked clean and was only a mile away.
At 11:00, Scooter texted, “I called, you have until Saturday. Is that okay?”
“ Yes, fantastic, thank you!” Scooter has an arrangement with the hotel that earns him points, and he has gifted me many of them!
I returned to the other conundrum of the day —my lawsuit —with very unexpected news. Tammy, the Top Drawer Housekeeping Manager, stopped me in the hallway.
“ What’s wrong, Loulou. She leaned against the cart and listened attentively.
I updated her on the event, and she tilted her head to one side.
“ Bastard! Take a break today, let the process begin, and tomorrow you’ll regain your strength.”
“ It’ll take a few tomorrows, I’m emotionally fragile.”
“ I know you are, I’m the same!”
She patted me on the shoulder, and just that little gesture, of care, was a band-aid to the wound.
Walking into the next hotel was a pinch of pathos I was not prepared for until the front-desk gent helped me with my five suitcases.
“ You’re from Santa Fe? He said, eyeing my license plate.
“ Was, for eleven years.”
“ I moved recently from Ranchos de Taos.”
“You’re kidding! That’s where I lived for several years. I had a gallery there!”
“ That’s crazy. I’ve never met anyone here who knows Ranchos or even New Mexico.” I laughed, cause a lot of people think it’s in Mexico.
He opened my door, and I feigned disappointment and thanked him.
Okay, here it is, a bland room without the flair or fancy, but the price is right. I opened the suitcases and did not unpack. The sun was out like a neon sign, beckoning me to go outdoors.
No elevator, on the first floor, I passed the laundry room—a lot of conversation and a sort of cheerful vibe. I walked outside, sat in a chair facing the sun, let my arms droop, and closed my eyes. I heard someone walking and then sitting next to me.
“ Hello, did you just check in?”
“ Yes, the sun is marvelous, isn’t it?”
“You bet it is. I’m Loulou.”
“ What! My name is Loulou, a nickname.”
She moved around, crossed her legs, lit a cigarette, and her long white hair was halfway clipped, and the rest fell on her shoulders. I could see she was once beautiful.
“ Isn’t that something else. How long are you here for?”
“ Not sure yet.”
“ I’ve been there. Not knowing.
“ People don’t understand, they feel I’m unstable or something. I can feel it, and see it in their eyes.”
“ Screw that, just ignore those people. I do.”
“ You’re right, too much to handle without that.”
“ Everything is upside down, and no accountability. “
“ So true”, and then she dropped her head, and I could see her emotions rise as if she had been led somewhere else.
“ My grandson was killed in a motorcycle accident, hit, and then died right there. I didn’t get to say goodbye. It was by an illegal immigrant.” Then she cried uncontrollably, and I just about got up and hugged her.
“ Oh, sweetie, I am so very sorry for you.” This was all genuine, and she was sober and all of that, so I listened.
“ I wrote to all of them, Bondi, Patel, Trump, Noem, nothing.” Something like this doesn’t happen in a five-star hotel, only in a two-star. We sat there awhile, and I tried to console her or offer some options, like a news alert to the stations and local media.
She was on the cliff of catastrophe, and my minutiae of disappointment disappeared.
TO BE CONTINUED.
ADVENTURERS IN SINGLE LIVINGNESS 