Wednesday, March 30, 2016

It is the middle of the night and I can't sleep.

I guess the deer were out there and set off the motion detector lights and for some reason it woke me up.

Someone asked me about work yesterday and wanted to know what it was like living sort of a double life. I told him the weird part was the transition of going to work.

The transition is the period of time from when I leave the house to the time I board the vessel. When I board things just seem to take care of themselves.

First there's the drive which is pretty boring. Along the way I check in and see what is going on and see if there have been any changes in plans or crew change. Sometimes there are but usually there are not. When I arrive in town it's straight to the motel for an overnight as I don't like to arrive to the boat all beat up and tired.

Occasionally that's a bit on the weird side. 

I have my choice of two places to stay and generally opt for the cheaper of the two because I can get a ground floor room which makes things convenient in the winter. I can haul a lot of stuff into the room easier to keep it from freezing.

On the other hand, the cheaper of the two can be a mild pain in the neck as tonight I was awakened by a hooker knocking on my door. I didn't answer I shouted "If you're a hooker, you're too late. I took care of myself!"

Whoever it was didn't knock twice.

It's a brief, strange interlude of a cheap motel and all night diners out of a painting called "The Boulevard of Broken Dreams". 

I just pass through this part of the world briefly as I transition from a "Leave it to Beaver" life in suburbia to a life on board a boat. 

The people around me during transition are a motley crew ranging from traveling business types, construction crews, an occasional family passing through on vacation and whatever punctuated with the occasional out of town stripper working the club down the street. I guess they all have their own stories.

One time a while ago I 'made' a vice cop working a prostitution sting. It was funny. She came up to me and before she could say anything I greeted her with, "Hello, officer." The look in her eyes told me I was right and when I started to wander off she stopped me and asked me how I knew.

"First of all, you're a gym rat," I said. "You are too damned healthy, polished and professional looking. I see no signs of drug abuse and the only thing you probably drink is an occasional glass of wine. Besides, if you are a working girl you're too polished for this neighborhood. You got cop written all over you. Try working in a better class of hotel. You'd do well in the upper class places."

She looked at me like she was interested in what I had to say.

"On second thought you'll probably make a couple of good pinches here. They'll take one look at you and start acting impulsively. You are quite attractive and that would likely cloud judgement."

She thanked me and wandered off.

Prostitution is a problem hotels of all levels have had since Day One. I would imagine the reason there was no room at the inn when Jesus was born was because it was payday night and the inn was full of whores plying their trade. Hence Jesus was born in a manger.

Actually the worst people I have to encounter seem to be the goody two-shoes types passing through. I once had some New England bird watcher type old woman griping to me when she was checking in. She was asking the desk person three hundred questions about the place. I was compassionate toward the clerk and told the woman she should drive an hour south and thirty minutes off the highway and she'd save a fortune as the rates here were higher because of the location.

She left and the clerk thanked me.

That woman would have not gotten any sleep here and would have been on the phone to the desk all night.

It is what it is. It's a world of cheap motels, all night diners and the characters of different lifestyles all crammed into one building and trying to get some sleep and or make a living.

For me it's kind of a twilight zone as I pass from a life in the suburbs to a live on board a boat. In a way I fit right in because I am in a leather flight jacket and topped with a fedora. By all appearances I am just another Damon Runyon character as I pass through transition time.

I will arrive at the motel and overnight as just another character passing through, eating and sleeping and the following morning I will board the boat and be a different person altogether.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY


  1. Damon Runyon, damn Pic, I used to work with a guy with that name. He was the type of guy that most of the girls didn't want to work around. Not because he did or said anything out of line but he just gave off a creepy vibe. One of them said it was like working with a normal person, but being absolutely sure it was really Satan himself.

    Thinking of firing the JCG match again at Perry this year, maybe the carbine match too.
    I'll watch for the pink hat?

  2. Not sure of the JCG yet. Work sked.

    I certainly WILL show up at Perry and at least visit the teams.