We decided to return to the hotel for a bit before dinner. We stopped by the lobby to see if there were any other tourist-type materials there (brochures, 2-for-1 coupons, maps to the local Mystery Spot). As we passed the elevator outside the lobby, we noticed a respectable-looking older lady who appeared to be waiting for the elevator to arrive. We didn't find anything in the lobby, and the lady was gone when we returned to the elevator, so we used our key to call it down.
We got in the elevator, and just before the doors closed, the lady appeared from around the corner and ducked into the elevator with us. I shrewdly deduced that she didn't have her hotel key and had to wait for someone else to get on the elevator so she could get to her room.
By the time we all got out on the third floor, and she started heading down the hall in the opposite direction, I was beginning to see some logical flaws in my shrewd deduction. If she didn't have a key to get on the elevator, how was she going to get in her room? Well, maybe there was somebody already in her room to let her in. Well then, why didn't she call them from downstairs? Well, maybe she didn't want to bother whoever was up in her room when she could just as easily hitch an elevator ride with another guest.
Or maybe she was a geriatric cat burglar preparing to jimmy the locks of some vacant rooms and abscond with some valuables unless Sherlock Thornton put a stop to her shenanigans. So I turned around to see where she was headed.
Now that, for the first time, I could see her walk more than a couple of feet, it was clear that she had cleaned the lobby out of all the 2-for-1 cocktail coupons and had added considerably to her tiny umbrella collection. She was walking down the hallway like it was the suspension bridge on Tom Sawyer's Island. I knew that, if she wasn't a guest, she was in no condition to jimmy any locks; and if she was a guest, with the progress she was making down the hallway, she'd sober up by the time she found her room, so we watched her bump into the wall a couple of more times, then proceeded to our room.
The "Do Not Disturb" sign was still on the doorknob next door, so I figured either our neighbors had reached a reconciliation or the local authorities had run out of yellow crime scene tape.
We went out to dinner at a place called The Galley. When we had checked into the hotel, I had asked the clerk for dining recommendations. Of course, he recommended the local Mac Snack Wraps, accompanied with a carafe of Diet Dr. Pepper, but I told him that ship had already sailed, and that's when he said a lot of guests liked The Galley. We didn't immediately spot it on our first day in town, so we decided to track it down and try it today.
Armed with the actual address this time, we found it with no problem. Being on the waterfront and sharing a building with other businesses, and with no golden arches or painted footprints on the sidewalk saying "this way to The Galley", it wasn't easily visible from the street. Like The Great American Fish Company, it had a nice view of the water from almost every table, and you got used to the seagulls smacking against the window.
I can't remember what we ordered exactly, but I know it had gills instead of hooves. The menu advised that The Galley preferred to prepare and serve all its fresh seafood "naked". That made me a bit apprehensive about meeting our waiter, and about the local health ordinances that allowed such a thing, but Sue read the fine print, and assured me the term referred to the culinary philosophy of serving the fish unseasoned with sauces on the side. I guess it's paying respect to the fish that fell in battle.
It was good, but we discovered that we prefer our fish fully-clothed. The philosophy of unsullied seafood might be admirable, but it doesn't take the place of some spices and a mesquite grill.
The room next door still had the "Do Not Disturb" sign posted when we returned. It was obvious that these folks had checked in to take advantage of the full line of cable TV programming offered by the hotel. Maybe they were fighting over the remote the previous night.
If so, the matter still wasn't settled, because at almost 10 pm sharp, they started fighting again. It made me sad to think that a couple would really rent a place to fight, so I tried to come up with alternate scenarios. The World Cup was in progress, so maybe, I though, they were just backing different teams and getting a bit over-zealous with the rivalry. I've heard that such mixed marriages aren't tolerated in some parts of Europe. But this was idle speculation... I really couldn't make out the exact words they were saying except for the more loudly punctuated curse words. I tried putting a can of Diet Dr. Pepper up to the wall and then putting my ear against it, but the can was still half-full and by the time I cleaned up the mess, I was ready to go to sleep.
I know some of you would have complained, either to the couple or to the hotel manager. But, although it was depressing, it wasn't like I couldn't get to sleep, and when two people are having this much trouble with their own relationship, why add the pressure of forging a new one with me or the hotel manager? Besides, I'm not really the complaining kind, especially against people I'm terrified of.
All material copyright 2009 Chuck Thornton