Accidents Can Happen

Fifteen hours and nine hundred and thirty miles later, I arrived in Boston. I had driven straight through, only stopping for gas and food. It was four o'clock in the afternoon and I was exhausted. I decided that I should get some sleep before I did anything else. When I pulled in the small run-down motel that was located just outside of Boston, I through it was closed. It should have been closed. The roof was in serious need of repair, for it looked like it was about to collapse. The once blue paint was mostly chipped away. The sign was missing letters, so it now read S ASID MOTE. Well, that's a stupid name. I through to myself. There's no sea around for miles.

I parked the car and quickly jumped out. I cautiously walked into the front office. Sitting alone, reading a book was an old lady wearing a long, plain, blue dress. When I opened the door, the bell rang and she looked up from her book and gave me a small smile. "Can I help?" She said a weak but kind voice.

"I'd like a room for a week." I said with a smile.

The lady did some calculating before saying, "It'll cost 210 dollars, dear." I wasn't sure if that was expensive or not, but I handed her the blue credit card. She ran it through her outdated computer and handed me the receipt. "And I'll need you to sign the quest book." She pointed to a large black binder that was lying at the end of the counter. I flipped it open carefully so it wouldn't fall apart. I looked at the last entry. A Sam Guthrie had stayed for two days, having signed out this morning. I placed the pen to the paper and quickly wrote, Marla Singer. I wasn't sure why I put a fake name. I just did. The old lady handed me a sliver key and said, "It's room 6B. It's just down the sidewalk." I thanked her and walked out. But I didn't head down the sidewalk to room 6B. Instead I walked back to the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

I drove into Boston, using side streets to avoid the evening traffic. When I turned on to Huntington Avenue from Belvidere Street, I found what I was looking for. A twenty-something floor building reached into the sky, towering over the other nearby buildings. I saw valet workers standing out front, opening car doors for arriving quests. The Westin Copley Place Boston was the one of the best hotels in Boston, with it's free valet, 24 hour room service, and spa. I made sure sure the glove box was lock and I grabbed my bag, credit card and money before I handed the keys over to the overly-eager valet worker.

The lavish lobby was to be expected. It's high ceiling, brights lights and expensively tiled floor made me feel small. I silently walked up to front desk, where a young man stood looked bored. But when his eyes got to me his began very energetic. "Can I help you?" I got the feeling that he wasn't just asking about a room.

"I need a room for a week, please." I said sweetly.

"Just for you?" He said with a wide smile on his face that displayed his perfectly white teeth.

"No. It's for me and my father, but he's at a business meeting right so he told to just go ahead and get a room." I said.

The man seemed disappointed, as he started to type into his computer. "What kind of business is your dad in?" He asked, trying to make small talk.

"He works for General Dynamics. They supply the government with military vehicles and airplanes and stuff like that." I said quickly, remember the Forbes magazine that listed them as one of the best companies.

"That's cool. It'll be one thousand three hundred and twenty three dollars." He said, not really listening anymore. I handed him the credit card. He scanned it and hand it back to me. He then passed me the receipt that I needed to sign. I signed it, Marla Stryker. He handed me a brochure and the key card. "Room 68, fourth floor. Have a good day."

Three minutes later, I was in my-too-big-of-a-room. I locked the door, kick my shoes off and crawled into one of the over-sized beds and fell asleep.