ON THE HOTEL ROAD OF TRAVEL THOUGHTS


The course we choose to study doesnโ€™t begin in school; it begins the moment we recognize that life is our teacher.  I chose the course of love between a man and a woman.  Yet all Iโ€™ve learned from Anais NinJoan Didion, and Lawrence Durrell about love isnโ€™t guiding me.  I have to start over and develop wisdom from my own experiences.

I checked into the third hotel, the previous one was tedious and murky. This morning in a larger room, on a crisp as iceberg lettuce, a day of clarity and stillness surrounds me. Outside my hotel room, the light is intermittent, a peak a boo stage window, the light illuminates portions of the crispy autumn leaves just before they drop. On my side of the glass, there are shadows and dissonance.ย  ย What events take place this week will be instrumental in my future and as piercing as the southwest sun when it shone in my eyes. ย ย 

This hotel’s staff is exceptionally friendly, conversant, and engaged in their jobs. Every time I pass by the guest check-in, Rose stops what sheโ€™s doing.

โ€œ Howโ€™s it going?โ€

โ€œToo early to tell.โ€ Iโ€™ve been here a week, and I unzipped my lawsuit story, so she is in the know. She is knowledgeable about the law, and living through times that are more threatening than usual.  

โ€œ Okay. What are you doing today?โ€™

โ€œ Researching moving companies. Critical thinking and planning. When I moved from Santa Fe to Los Angeles, I hired a broker, thinking it was the actual company. When the van arrived, half of my things were broken, boxes were opened, and some were stolen. So this time, no mistakes.  

โ€œ Mistakes are all about learning.โ€

โ€œ Yes, and I learned!โ€

โ€œ What did you do last night?โ€ She said with a curious smile.

โ€œ I was at the bar, Lizzie was there rousing all of us up with puzzles, a brouhaha like the old days, you know, not one of us looked at our phones.โ€

โ€œ Please, donโ€™t even start. So annoying when youโ€™re talking to someone and they are staring down at their phones.โ€

โ€œ When I was living in LA, at huge four-way intersections in the middle of traffic, pedestrians crossed without even looking up. It was the same everywhere, restaurants, shops, it struck me as a way of looking very significant.โ€

โ€œ Youโ€™re so right!โ€

โ€œ That reminds me, I need to go write a column.โ€

โ€œ Write about your lawsuit.โ€

โ€œ No! Iโ€™m in witness protection writing.โ€

โ€œ They may read it right?โ€

โ€œ You New Yorkers are always on the right key.โ€

โ€œ Gotta be, itโ€™s New York.โ€

” I’m California”.

” That’s okay, I still love you, and your day is coming, and so is a new man.”

ON THE HOTEL ROAD OF TRAVEL


               THE GYPSY CHRONICLES โ€“ Thursday, October 23, 2025

โ€œ You have to be out today by 11 am. โ€ย  I gasped and looked at the time, 10 am.

โ€œ Scooter told me he extended it until Sunday the 26th.โ€

โ€œ He didnโ€™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 didnโ€™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, โ€œI called, you have until Saturday. Is that okay?โ€

โ€œ Yes, fantastic, thank you!โ€ 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 โ€”my lawsuit โ€”with very unexpected news. Tammy, the Top Drawer Housekeeping Manager, stopped me in the hallway.

โ€œ Whatโ€™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.

โ€œ Bastard! Take a break today, let the process begin, and tomorrow youโ€™ll regain your strength.โ€

โ€œ Itโ€™ll take a few tomorrows, Iโ€™m emotionally fragile.โ€

โ€œ I know you are, Iโ€™m the same!โ€

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.

โ€œ Youโ€™re from Santa Fe? He said, eyeing my license plate.

โ€œ Was, for eleven years.โ€

โ€œ I moved recently from Ranchos de Taos.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re kidding! Thatโ€™s where I lived for several years. I had a gallery there!โ€

โ€œ Thatโ€™s crazy. Iโ€™ve never met anyone here who knows Ranchos or even New Mexico.โ€ I laughed, cause a lot of people think it’s in Mexico.

He opened my door, and I feigned disappointment and thanked him.

ย 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 roomโ€”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.

โ€œ Hello, did you just check in?โ€

โ€œ Yes, the sun is marvelous, isnโ€™t it?โ€

โ€œYou bet it is. Iโ€™m Loulou.โ€

โ€œ What! My name is Loulou, a nickname.โ€

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.

โ€œ Isnโ€™t that something else. How long are you here for?โ€

โ€œ Not sure yet.โ€

โ€œ Iโ€™ve been there. Not knowing.

โ€œ People donโ€™t understand, they feel Iโ€™m unstable or something. I can feel it, and see it in their eyes.โ€

โ€œ Screw that, just ignore those people. I do.โ€

โ€œ  Youโ€™re right, too much to handle without that.โ€

โ€œ  Everything is upside down, and no accountability. โ€œ

โ€œ So trueโ€, and then she dropped her head, and I could see her emotions rise as if she had been led somewhere else.

โ€œ My grandson was killed in a motorcycle accident, hit, and then died right there. I didnโ€™t get to say goodbye. It was by an illegal immigrant.โ€ Then she cried uncontrollably, and I just about got up and hugged her.

โ€œ Oh, sweetie,  I am so very sorry for you.โ€  This was all genuine, and she was sober and all of that, so I listened.

โ€œ I wrote to all of them, Bondi, Patel, Trump, Noem, nothing.โ€  Something like this doesnโ€™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.