i check into a cheap mexican hotel made of wood - the fat man behind the desk goes through the motions without a word - he gives me a key and points to the stairs - the small fan he has spinning at his desk somehow finds a way to make the sweat on my forehead feel even hotter
a large room - a double bed - a desk and a chair - all made of rotting wood - a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, shower and bath - i check it out, and contemplate taking a bath for the first time in probably ten years - i throw my bag on the bed and check out the tv - world news in black and white, but it has the sports channel, if i stand in a certain position - the 2006 world cup - i'd just left a group of people who called each other friends - a couple of french guys, an american girl or two looking for nice guys to protect them from the seedy streets of mexico they'd read about online in the suburbs of daddy's-little-girl-america - i had to get away - lonesome again, alone once more - i took a nap for maybe fifteen sweet warm minutes before waking up again thirsty for a beer - i walked over to the window which looked out into a courtyard all the other hotel-rooms looked out to and saw a couple of guys smoking cigarettes - they saw me, and so i gave them a nod - they saluted me and i padded my pockets for my wallet and key and headed for the door in search of a drink in this goddamn hot and dusty town
there was a barber shop that had far-out-dated posters of cool-dos - strange mustaches and styles to make you smile - next door a shop that sold mexican cowboy gear - i looked over my shoulder, and kept walking - i stopped at a corner stall and bought some chewing-gum for something to do - i scoped the scene and it melted me - beer was easy to come by so i bought some cans - large fucking cans of mexican beer - i stood on the corner with my cans in a plastic bag for a moment or two - old mexican cars that still ran drove passed me and the coca-cola sign behind me - a couple of mexican cowboys walked by incidentally blowing cigarette smoke in my face - i made the decision to drink these cans back in my hotel room, watch the fucking world cup, and then head out to a bar somewhere and kill this night off
the desk now covered in cans - i'd done a couple more beer runs by half time - my wooden room throbing with a mexican afternoon sun - i sat in my chair and watched the game - in the room to the left, a baby cried - in the room to the right a couple continued to have pretty wild afternoon sex - i just sat in the middle of them, drinking my warm beers as i watched the 2006 world cup through the cheap mexican hotel room static
later that night i went to sleep for the first time in three days i guess - i really didn't get along with those french guys, but the american girls were cool - i caught a glimpse of myself in the window and noticed how gaunt i'd become - i was the worst version of myself there could possibly be - it fascinated me, so i posed for myself in the reflection of the window - am i dying? will i die here? alone? in this cheap mexican wooden hotel room? will i die an anonymous man surrounded by empty beer cans and a shitty tv showing static with the volume down? - just as i always imagined it - i killed my image and opened the window and leaned out over the sill and took some warm air in my lungs - the stars shone over the chihuahuas that night, i tell you - as i do, i looked to the stars and thought about them and thought about myself - standing there, leaning out a window, surrounded by an orchestra of sex noises from the all couples in all the rooms that surrounded mine - was i all alone? - i listened to them all have sex - was i all alone? i said - i looked up to the mexican stars - was i all alone?
No comments:
Post a Comment