The Second Hotel vol. 2

I shared a bath with the person next door.   One afternoon, while taking a nap, the smoke alarm went off in the adjoining room. Needless to say, the firemen fought the fire through my room. I lost everything due to smoke damage. The manager gave me another room, which I actually liked better.  I didn’t care about my things; they weren’t all that valuable.

My friend Paul liked to play pool in the hotel’s recreation room. In his early twenties, he had been at the first 3/4 way house where I had lived. Paul remarked that he had a wonderful time there. He got kicked out, though, for going off his medication.

Everywhere I lived, I experienced people with different circumstances and mental illnesses. At times, the hotel scared me.

One day, Paul invited me up to his room for a “communion service.” I figured Paul, being religious, couldn’t be all that bad. We prayed and broke bread. A few days later, Paul disappeared. He ended up in the acute care mental hospital and then spent a few months in the extended care one. I met up with him later on the street (he was living in a board and care facility), and we went out for hamburgers. Sometimes, Paul, my friend Mike, and I would go out for Chinese food.

Sometimes, people died in their rooms; overdoses, alcoholism, heart attacks. Twice, women got beat up in the dining room. Prostitutes and drug pushers climbed up the fire escapes to conduct their business. Those of us living there became a “community,” albeit dysfunctional, caring for one another as best we could. I went overboard, trying to help everyone. In fact, some of the people from the hotel ended up at the same nursing homes as my friends from the retirement center!

At my mental health clinic, psychiatrists and counselors came and went with an uncomfortable regularity. I kept complaining about having low self-esteem.  They finally suggested I see counseling students. I loved it! They were fresh, eager, and at least stayed several semesters.

Mike drank for a couple of years. He finally found “enlightenment” and decided to take his medications instead of the bottle. I had coffee with him every morning  along with an assortment of his female friends.

When not unkempt and looking a bit homeless, Mike liked to dress flashy. At times, he wore women’s blouses and jackets if they were bright enough. The two of us had fun arguing over second-hand clothes and shopping at thrift stores.