Cuba, New Mexico Part II
DMZ 
Click here for Cuba, New Mexico Part I
“Glad to see that shitty motel rooms haven’t changed much. How long will I have to wait to get out of this dump?” he thought. The way he looked and smelled he was just grateful that the hotel clerk at the Cuban Lodge had let him use the phone. The clerk had accepted Jon’s American Express Centurion card over the phone and couldn’t get Albert out of the office fast enough. When Albert got to his room and looked in the mirror he was surprised that the office manager hadn’t called the cops. He needed to sit down. “Sleeping under the overpass isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He was in bad shape.
“Knock, knock.” ‘Who the fuck could that be?’ Albert thought. “Care package from your friend. I sent my wife to go pick up some clothes for you.” Albert tried to get up from the chair. It hurt to move so he plopped back down. “Just leave it by the door.” He could hear the little man set it down and then shuffle back towards the Motel’s front office. After a few minutes he was able to make it to the door (alternately using the table, the dresser and the TV stand as support) to retrieve it. It looked like the basket was full of two of everything that the shitty roadside motel had to offer. “Typical Jon,” He said. ‘No food or booze. Probably couldn’t keep anything down anyway.’ He thought. All the travel size Advil went down immediately.
He was in another man’s body. Must be an old man’s he thought. Albert couldn’t even take stock of his situation. Every part of his body hurt and it hurt to even think about what could be wrong with him. “Baths are always good.” He moved in the direction of the bathroom and ended up slumped down on the toilet. He slowly took off his rags and his talking shoes. Next he dumped half a dozen body soaps and shampoo bottles into the running bath water, then returned to the toilet while the tub filled up with suds.
Albert tested the water. It was too hot but he figured that it would do him some good and grabbed the bar soaps on the counter. As he turned to get into the tub he was overcome with another coughing fit. He was seing stars as he coughed and some more strange blood/mucus came up and spattered the grungy off-white tile floor. He looked at it for a minute and wondered what could do that to someone (TB?). With his shaking it was difficult to get into the tub.
The film that immediately amassed on top of the bubbles was utterly disgusting to him. He didn’t even attempt to wash his matted hair and just dunked his head below the water for a while. When the water started to cool he let some out and replaced it with hot water again. This time he attempted to loosen his three shit-locks. The biggest was wider than his hand, heel to tip. One was on the right side of his head, initially going straight out then following the contour of his head. The second smallish one was on the left side going straight down. Maybe he slept on it. Having failed at loosening the unruly tentacles he figured that he should cut his hair off completely. He painfully stood up using the handy rail and started the shower. Luckily there was still plenty of hot water. Albert attributed that more to the Motel’s lack of patrons than to any clever design.
He finished in the shower and used the scissors in the basket to start cutting off his beard. It took a long time and he nearly filled up the small trash can in the bathroom. The shave felt good. He had to go slow. He nicked himself a few times and used both the razors in the basket. His skin was really rough now and he had to be careful. He stared at the image in the mirror. It might be Albert Palmer but he wasn’t sure. The fingernails took a long time and he never knew that that one simple act could feel so good.
While he was in the bath someone had lain out some Kmart special track suits and unmentionables. He had heard a knock and then the door open but was too entranced to acknowledge or even respond to the voice. Albert put them on and then sat on the edge of the bed. He reached for the phone and pressed ‘0’. “Front Desk,” As if there was more than one. “Does anyone around here cut hair?” “My wife can do it. Your friend has taken care of everything.” “Oh. Thank you. Send her over in a while. And a sandwich.” “Sure thing Mr. Palmer.” Albert hung up the phone and reached for the TV remote which was lying next to the phone. When the welcome screen came on the TV he blacked out, slipped off the edge of the bed, hit his shoulder, then his head hard on the floor. Some vomit came out in a dribble to ruin his new shirt. The screen read ‘Good Morning! Welcome to Cuba, New Mexico. Today is Tuesday August 16th, 2010. The weather today…’
Reader Comments (1)
This reminds me of the time I woke up from a blackout in Joshua Tree with a bunch of people I didn't know....