Enduring enough of Flagstaff's local hillbilly shit and hostile drunken Indians, I awoke early and grabbed my gear; hightailing it to the Greyhound. Bitter and despondent, I awaited in the chilled wind swatting off tweekers mooching for smokes. The long ride was uneventful, even though the damn bus to Phoenix reeked of stale piss.
As the pine trees turned to brush then to organ pipe cactus, I wondered as I wandered: What’s next? Well, I was on my way to Tucson to while away a few months saving money and attempt to get my head in order. Both, at this time seems an impracticality.
I rolled into Tucson at nine at night and to my dismay the city fathers had relocated the Greyhound station onto the other side of town. The taxi I took seemed to give me the scenic tour, as taxis are prone to do. I rented three nights at the La Siesta Hotel on Oracle. Now, allow me indulge you: as you well realize, I have stayed at some shitty places before, even in 3rd world countries, but this! THIS! Where to begin…opening the door, the room smelled like fermented cheese. The floor was dirty as if it hadn’t been swept for some time. The internet (which is offered as free) is non-existent. There were no towels in the bathroom…the bathroom itself was a biological horror. A used piece of soap still lay in the shower, the bathtub was stained in some blue tint. The sheets had not been changed. When I pulled the comforter off, the “white” sheets had questionable stains and blood and small bits of debris and hair. They hadn’t even bothered to change them! When I had to call from the note taped to the office door with a phone number scribbled on it (obviously their main office where everyone hung out was a block down the street at another hotel) I called for some towels and waited two cigarettes later to retrieve them as tweekers and transvestite hookers clomped in front of me on the sidewalk. Worst hotel ever, to say the least.
After a fitful sleep, I awoke early to locate a coffee shop with wifi so I could place a call at the men’s shelter here. Their M.O. is that one needs to call every morning at 9am to inquire about a bunk. I revisited my favorite coffee shop, Shot in the Dark. However, at the stroke of nine, their wifi became seriously wonky and I missed my opportunity. By the time I walked the few blocks to a Brugger’s Bagels they had no more bunks for the night. Will try again tomorrow.
Never the less, I have two more days at Motel Hell. This afternoon, I will rent a public storage unit for my things. It seems this hobo journey is just beginning…