See This Is Why I’d Rather Stay Home

All three of my kids are performers. My youngest longs for the bright lights of Broadway, my middle child plays drums and sings in a rock band, and my oldest dances. I love nothing more than to watch them shine on stage. We spend our nights shuffling them to and from practice and listening to the same songs on repeat at the house. (Usually this is fine but I rarely want to listen to them afterward and when R sang Seven Nation Army I was worried. Nope, still a banger.) Frankly, I barely see my husband, what with all the activities we have. I think he’s going a little grey in the beard, but I can’t be sure. This is especially true during the dance competition season.

Thankfully, our studio is pretty chill and we only have 4 competitions, but these often require us to spend the night close to the event. I’m less than fond of this aspect of the whole thing. I deeply appreciate that I can watch my younger two perform without having to spend the night at some random hotel that may or may not have a body under the mattress. This past weekend was a masterclass in why I HATE TRAVELLING.

We booked a hotel about 5 miles from the venue. Well, I booked it. I have to take the fail on this one. We usually don’t get to the hotel until after the competition, but since she didn’t start until pretty late, we decided to check in first. THANK THE SWEET INFANT JESUS. And the adult one. We pull up to the hotel. It looks mostly fine but is a bunch of small buildings. Cool, cool. No problem. I’ve never seen this chain in this style, but no problem. I find the building, separate from all the rooms, where the front desk is and check-in. So far, no problems.

Oh, we were so naïve. We drive over to the building, only to be greeted by an entrance where the window had a small hole with long cracks flowing outward. We exchanged a glance. Surely it wasn’t a gunshot. We would proceed to refer to it as a gunshot in all remaining conversations. I don’t know what it really was. Maybe someone went at it with a poker. I was not asking. Because we are well versed in horror movies, we should have turned around then, but like cattle to the slaughter, we pressed on. This is a stain on our reputation as horror afficionados and I apologize to the collective.

The moment we opened the door, a powerful odor hit. I stopped. Someone had been chain-smoking, for what I can only assume had been 48 straight hours, in this hallway. I swear the hotel was non-smoking. I always check this as an asthmatic who has a severe reaction to cigarette smoke. I was wrong. Now, technically, our room was non-smoking. I have never understood this concept. Harken elderly folks among us back to the days of smoking/non-smoking sections in restaurants. They were all but pointless. Smoke does not recognize human-made boundaries. It goes with the air. Alas, even in the “non-smoking” room, I was sure I’d finish up an entire inhaler and probably still need some type of medical treatment.

I was still, again with the lack of self-preservation skills, trying to convince myself we would be fine. We probably wouldn’t die from the random fire poker maniacs or asthmatic medical emergencies. Probably. May the odds be ever in our favor. We brought our bag into the room and hot damn if it didn’t have more surprises! First there were leaves all over the floor. Odd. But no problem. Leaves are fine. The sweeper probably broke! I’m making a mental note that I’m going to dismantle the bed to check for idk, everything. I’m about to get started when I see the feet.

Honestly, had they been corpse feet, I don’t know if my anxiety would have gotten any higher, but they were footprints all over the wall next to the bed. So. Many. Footprints. I wish I’d just run, but I didn’t have another hotel, so we walked out to the car and I started looking. I kept looking back at that gunshot hole, poker attack and said you know what? Fuck this shit. Let’s grab our bags. If we have to stay far away we will because we are not staying here!

But now! The key doesn’t work. Fine fine. I’m sure had them snuggling too close to my phone. Surely this isn’t a trap. We take them to the front desk, who says they are fine. We probably didn’t open the door fast enough. They are not fine. I have now requested a cancellation and that they accompany us to free our items. One receptionist comes back with us but also cannot get into the room. They can’t even get in with the control key. My daughter has decided that this is the time to abandon me to my fate, and steals the keys from my pocket and heads to the car. I guess she was planning to learn to drive by doing if I was murdered. We have to be at the competition in 20 minutes. We are going to be late.

I’m now offered a new room. Sir. My stuff is in there and I am leaving. Forever. He tells me he can’t get in. Obviously I can see that, but I need to leave and I need my stuff. My anxiety meds are in there and I’m going to need them. ASAP. He tries the key again and then mysteriously disappears. I wheeze. After about 15 minutes, I hear something in the room. I assume the wall people have returned. Instead, it’s the receptionist! Our bags are free! I cough with relief.

Thankfully, we could get the last room at another hotel about 20 minutes away. It was a hotel we’ve stayed at before and while from the outside it looks a bit like a retirement home, it’s nice and we were pretty confident there would be no wall people. And since we had no choice, I booked the room with the whirlpool tub. We basically had the honeymoon room and, according to my teen, she was pumped to try the tub out as long as there were no rose petals. I was pumped to not be pokered to death.

All went great…until…2:13am our second night when one of our neighbors decided it was a great time to have a loud argument. The screaming woke me up, but since my teen could literally sleep through a hurricane, she peacefully slept beside me. The screaming continued back and forth for over an hour. I heard someone come by and try to calm the situation, perhaps the front desk which was all of 10 feet from us??, but to no avail. Dude in particular would not shut the hell up. SOME OF US NEED TO SLEEP! I never figured out what they were arguing about. If I were a better person, I’d say I wasn’t curious but I totally was. Why are you doing this now? Don’t you like to sleep? Does the volume of your voice enhance the quality of your argument? (100% no one that one, if anything it detracts)

And in between my hotel nightmares, I sat on the floor and read my books, dreaming of sleep. My daughter’s dances were like 6 or 10 hours apart. Very long days. Her whole studio looked amazing. These girls are so talented. I dance like a potato with noodle legs, so I’m always so impressed and mildly confused as to how she is able to do it.

My recommendation is to never leave home. The outside is scary. And the wall people are looking for you.

Check out competition review of Influencing Death!