When I moved into this motel in June of 2017, I noticed an obese man that would always stand outside smoking, looking over the railing at the parking lot below. From inside my room each morning I would hear him shouting. At first I thought he was arguing with someone on the phone or the person next door. When I finally one morning peeked outside my curtain I saw he was yelling at no one.
As time went on his shouting didn’t wake me anymore as I adapted. He said things usually like “I’m calling the fucking cops!!”, “You better bring me my money bitch!!”, and my favorite “The faggot next door told me!!” I assume that one was a reference to me. Of course he meant no harm by it, he was just mentally ill.
In fact he was the only one at the motel (besides employees) that ever talked to me. If I opened my door he would say “Hey buddy, are you going to the store?” If I was he would give me cash to pick him up cigarettes and beer. He liked USA Gold regular shorts and Natty Daddy.
He was even bold enough to call my room a few times, when he was desperate enough to see if I would be going to a store soon. I didn’t mind he would always let me keep the change anyway.
Funnier moments from him was the snow plow just plowing the snow out of the lot. He stood there screaming at him “You stop that right now!! I’m calling the fucking cops!!”. The cops knew him, either because he lived here so long (3 years) or because maybe he did call them often. I say this because one time the police were here because there was a fight going on between a few drunk construction workers. One accusing the other of taking his money. When the cops arrived he shouted at the police “I’m calling the fucking cops!!” One replied to him by his name and said hi.
Anyway last week the shouting stopped. A few days later I came out of my room to see this..
I knew through some of the gibberish he would say to me that he might had been in danger of being kicked out of here. I also knew he was in the hospital not long ago because he has a lot of health problems. Also, thinking back the last time I went to the store for him he asked me if I wanted a crock pot. I said no thank you. But it was always hard to tell because what he said was often fiction blended with facts, you just never fully knew and had to read between the lines.
There is another older man that lives here that never speaks to me, but when I did see him I asked if he moved out. He said “yes”. There was no detail. I asked because I didn’t know if he was dead or not. I checked the obituaries a few times and have seen nothing.
Motel living is very secretive anyway. No one asks questions. When my car was suddenly gone no one asked. No one asks what I do to support myself, nothing is asked. I like that sort of because I hate when people are nosy and trying to get information out of me. All they know is I am quiet and I pay my bill on time. I am respectful and cause no problems, so nothing is ever asked.
At this point I assume he went to another motel or got into some type of assisted living program. It is so quiet here now though and for being a random weird person who lived two rooms over from me I miss him. Hopefully he is ok.