I have learned many lessons in my life: don’t eat yellow snow, don’t poke a hornets nest, and don’t stay in a motel room that smells like a dead hooker. A few years ago I had the most delightful room at the Best Western in Sheridan. It was on the top floor and it had heavy gnarled pine furniture, a balcony, a king sized bed, and a big bathtub. Unfortunately, it smelled like a dead hooker.
I called the front desk and asked if I could switch rooms, but the only thing they had available was on the ground floor and it didn’t have a balcony. Nevermind. I figured I’d leave the balcony door open and the smell would go away or be less noticable.
I left for a few hours and when I returned, the smell was worse. It smelled as if the dead hooker had invited some of her other dead hooker friends and they were all happily rotting under the bed. It was a king sized bed.
I got down on my hands and knees to look under the bed, prepared for whatever I might find. What I found was a wooden pedestal that supported the bed. Damn! Just the kind of place dead hookers get stashed in the movies. Moving the mattress off the pedestal wouldn’t be easy, but I had to find the source of the smell. Plus, I would never fall asleep thinking I was on top of a bunch of dead hookers.
I moved all the furniture away from the side of the bed and slid the mattress enough so I could look under it. Nothing. I’m not going to lie, I was a little disappointed.
At this point I weighed my options: search the room or move. Since I had rearranged all the furniture on one side of the room already, searching the room seemed reasonable. I started with drawers. I didn’t even find a Bible. I looked under all the furniture I moved in case something was stuck under it. Nothing. Then behind the long counter which held the gigantic television, I spied something. Is it? Could it be? A dirty diaper. For Pete’s sake.
I reached behind the counter to retrieve the diaper, but my arm wasn’t long enough. I got on top of the counter to reach down for the diaper, but my arm wasn’t long enough. I needed to move the counter. Okay, I’m farm girl, I’m strong, I can do this.
Lift with your legs, and not your back. I gently scooted the counter a couple of inches, but it wasn’t enough for me to reach the diaper.
Put your back into it. I gave the counter the heave ho and WHAM!
WTF?! Oh fuck me, the TV fell off the counter and was face down on the floor. And what a noise! The people on the ground floor were calling security for that bump in the night. As fast as I could I yanked the counter away from the wall (it weighed nothing now that the TV was on the floor) and grabbed the offending diaper coffee filter off the floor.
What. The. Hell?!
No time to think, security was on their way and I was going to have to explain why the TV was face down on the floor and how the room smelled like a dead hooker.
I managed to get the TV in an upright position, which was no small feat. The damned thing was a 97 inch or something. Why hadn’t I even noticed it?
It’s a shame the room wasn’t equiped with a video camera. I could have been a You Tube billionaire with a guest appearance on Tosh.0. I don’t know all the contortions I went through to get the TV back on top of the counter, but at one point I was flat on my back on the bed with the TV on top of me. The process involved the bed, two chairs and my bruised and battered body, but it was finally in place, and it turned on. I don’t know if it got a picture since the fall ripped the cable from the wall.
Defeat. I searched the room, wrestled with a TV, ruined the cable; in short, I vandalized a motel room and I still hadn’t found the smell. Screw it. I was tired, sore and smelly, and it was time to meet my group for dinner. I shucked my clothes and walked to the bathroom, crossing in front of the in-room sink. I nearly wept with joy when my bare feet touched wet carpet. Someone had obviously overflowed the sink and the smell was wet, rotting carpet.
I called the front desk and while I was at dinner, they sent someone up to steam clean the carpet. I spent the next three days in a blissful state, with the breeze gently blowing in from the balcony and no dead hooker smell in my room.