Maybe a short poem.
Nights fly
Days go by
Work
Vs.
Swimming
Vs
Sleep
Vs.
Filtered Water
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Hot City Diary: Day 76
Things are hot around here. The cement cooks bare feet. I get bloody noses from everything drying out. There's no moisture in the air. It's too hot to write. Best thing to do is stay inside and watch TV in the A/C. The Alaskan reality shows are the best, by far. I'll wait until later to go in the pool, once the main burn is gone.
Hot City Diary: Day 74
I find some parking about a mile from my work and jog it in. Some kind of film party for the short fest that's in town. There are so many people and the valet are taking up the other good parking spaces. So I jog it in. The Italians are here, the French are here, too. There is the crazy French couple that lost the prescription glasses and they are driving back to LA tomorrow on a Motorcycle. She's Frantic. The Australians are here too, they just showed up and they want to know why the restaurant closed down 30 minutes early, no big deal because we can still order dominos pizza and they are gonna order pizza and eat it in the bar with some magic mushrooms and cuss out the staff and then ignore the "No Outside Food or Drink" order in the bar. They're Australians and they don't give a damn. The following is what was written down in the log.
Room 5M - 11:30 am. Guest Mel Martin want's an upstairs room. Late Check In. Upset the kitchen is closed for routine maintenance. Orders Pizza.
Room 5M - Midnight Guest Mel Martin and Friends take pizza into the hotel bar and the staff is up in arms about pizza in the bar and the Guest is asked to leave and becomes verbally abusive while flipping everyone off and totally ruining Karaoke. He does hyjack and do a great rendition, btw, of "La Bamba" if you're looking for some good qualities. All occupants of room are told to go back to their room and are banned from the bar shortly after song around 12:10 am
Room 5M -12:20 am. Guest Mel Martin approaches the desk and asks for a corkscrew. I apologize for not carrying one, but the hotel doesn't condone offsite liquor, but as a courtesy we could uncork it in the bar. Guest seemed hesitant to go back into the bar and goes back to the room and calls back 5 mins later and asks same question. I tell him that we could cork it with a pen at the desk and Mr. Martin then says, "I'm trippin and I just need some wine and we want to uncork it and give it life and you want to shove the cork into the bottle?! That is what you said, and we want to Live but you want a cork abortion in our wine?" This is when I apologize, but it's no use. "We will not break the bottle," Mr. Martin says, "We need the cork to be born!" I try to assure him that by corking the bottle, maybe with a screwdriver, that it won't break the bottle and they can still enjoy things if they really, really, really need a drink, but it's no use. "Look, I've got to go, forget about the wine, mate."
12:45 am Guest in room GH45 needs more blankets. Housekeeping sent.
12:57 am Guest in Room 2C Request Security to help her look entire property for glasses and he said he would try his best. She is Frantic. They can't find them. She wants to empty all the towel bins from the hotel because she's positive the glasses are there. They're not there. After pouring out all the towels and Security looking over her dig thru and unravel 1000 towels, nothing.
1:15 am Complaint of loud ruckus from the room up stairs near TT77. Security finds dog alone and calls owners. No more noise. Continues to watch 2C look through towels.
1:25 am Guest in 2C finishes and is sad and goes back to her room where she comes back and tells everyone cleaning up the towel bomb she left and says she found them at the pool. Security thinks she found them in the room. She tells us again that she has found the glasses by the pool and promises to go to sleep for the night.
Room 5M - 2:30 am Security witnesses group pissing off of balcony. This is the fourth warning from the cussing at the bar to some of the group going swimming in their clothes and shoes and being loud with neighbors and now this. The PS Police Dept. is called and 2 cars show up at 3:07am. Another shows up a minute later. They tell us they can't evict them because they're too high or drunk and can cause an accident on the public highways. They need a taxi ride home and home is Australia. Whatever. They can't drive. The police aren't just going to let them drive off, all kinds of liabilities there. So the PS Police Dept. decides to let them ride it out until 8am and then they've got to go.
3:00 am Mrs. Dawnings - Television doesn't work, sent engineer to Room 82Pr.
Room 5m - 3:45 am Dance party shut down and all wi-fi speakers confiscated to be picked up upon check out at 8 am.
3:58 am Guest in room 2D is complaining of her neighbor having a fight and slamming doors. It's the crazy people that lose glasses from 2C that are causing all the noise. Security is sent and says the room smells like drugs and they should be charged the smoking fee. Upon hotel managers' discretion.
Room 5M - 4:30 am Mr. Martin is found streaking the property from pool to pool and screaming about Unicorns. It's the only way to save them.
No more disturbances tonight.
Early Morning Check Ins
None
Early Check outs:
None
Academy Elite Membership Enrollments:
None
Room Moves:
None
Lost and Found:
Half eaten pizza with magic mushrooms left in the restaurant.
Wake up Calls:
Room 6T - 7 am
Room 5M - 7:30 am
Room 5M - 11:30 am. Guest Mel Martin want's an upstairs room. Late Check In. Upset the kitchen is closed for routine maintenance. Orders Pizza.
Room 5M - Midnight Guest Mel Martin and Friends take pizza into the hotel bar and the staff is up in arms about pizza in the bar and the Guest is asked to leave and becomes verbally abusive while flipping everyone off and totally ruining Karaoke. He does hyjack and do a great rendition, btw, of "La Bamba" if you're looking for some good qualities. All occupants of room are told to go back to their room and are banned from the bar shortly after song around 12:10 am
Room 5M -12:20 am. Guest Mel Martin approaches the desk and asks for a corkscrew. I apologize for not carrying one, but the hotel doesn't condone offsite liquor, but as a courtesy we could uncork it in the bar. Guest seemed hesitant to go back into the bar and goes back to the room and calls back 5 mins later and asks same question. I tell him that we could cork it with a pen at the desk and Mr. Martin then says, "I'm trippin and I just need some wine and we want to uncork it and give it life and you want to shove the cork into the bottle?! That is what you said, and we want to Live but you want a cork abortion in our wine?" This is when I apologize, but it's no use. "We will not break the bottle," Mr. Martin says, "We need the cork to be born!" I try to assure him that by corking the bottle, maybe with a screwdriver, that it won't break the bottle and they can still enjoy things if they really, really, really need a drink, but it's no use. "Look, I've got to go, forget about the wine, mate."
12:45 am Guest in room GH45 needs more blankets. Housekeeping sent.
12:57 am Guest in Room 2C Request Security to help her look entire property for glasses and he said he would try his best. She is Frantic. They can't find them. She wants to empty all the towel bins from the hotel because she's positive the glasses are there. They're not there. After pouring out all the towels and Security looking over her dig thru and unravel 1000 towels, nothing.
1:15 am Complaint of loud ruckus from the room up stairs near TT77. Security finds dog alone and calls owners. No more noise. Continues to watch 2C look through towels.
1:25 am Guest in 2C finishes and is sad and goes back to her room where she comes back and tells everyone cleaning up the towel bomb she left and says she found them at the pool. Security thinks she found them in the room. She tells us again that she has found the glasses by the pool and promises to go to sleep for the night.
Room 5M - 2:30 am Security witnesses group pissing off of balcony. This is the fourth warning from the cussing at the bar to some of the group going swimming in their clothes and shoes and being loud with neighbors and now this. The PS Police Dept. is called and 2 cars show up at 3:07am. Another shows up a minute later. They tell us they can't evict them because they're too high or drunk and can cause an accident on the public highways. They need a taxi ride home and home is Australia. Whatever. They can't drive. The police aren't just going to let them drive off, all kinds of liabilities there. So the PS Police Dept. decides to let them ride it out until 8am and then they've got to go.
3:00 am Mrs. Dawnings - Television doesn't work, sent engineer to Room 82Pr.
Room 5m - 3:45 am Dance party shut down and all wi-fi speakers confiscated to be picked up upon check out at 8 am.
3:58 am Guest in room 2D is complaining of her neighbor having a fight and slamming doors. It's the crazy people that lose glasses from 2C that are causing all the noise. Security is sent and says the room smells like drugs and they should be charged the smoking fee. Upon hotel managers' discretion.
Room 5M - 4:30 am Mr. Martin is found streaking the property from pool to pool and screaming about Unicorns. It's the only way to save them.
No more disturbances tonight.
Early Morning Check Ins
None
Early Check outs:
None
Academy Elite Membership Enrollments:
None
Room Moves:
None
Lost and Found:
Half eaten pizza with magic mushrooms left in the restaurant.
Wake up Calls:
Room 6T - 7 am
Room 5M - 7:30 am
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Hot City Diarys: Day 73
Today it's a nice cool 81 degrees, Oh, wait, hold on, that's the low. The high will be 100+. We all race for the shade and the fans and the chilled iced teas and sliced watermelon. It's the air conditioner on full and sleeping until the sun goes down. It's another one of the perks of the night shift. Working the night shift. On the night shift yay yay. There's no sleeping, allowed. It's also totally throwing off natural sleeping rhythms. I've lost my rhythm and that's just the beginning.
It's nights at the hotel and days in bed and evenings by the pool.
Shelly went back to Italy.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Hot City Diary: Day 70
Hot City Diary: Work Day 70
The DJ has finished playing and the drunks are clinging to the bar. The hotel entertainment for the night has ended. It's 1:30am. The drunks make their way out, others go to the pool; others go to their rooms and others sing and one person is talking about Jesus. Nobody wants to hear about Jesus at 1:30am. Maybe 7am, but not 1:30am. We receive several complaints about the Saint and even the bartender thinks he might be on some serious drugs. Security get's involved. Obviously nobody could debate him. It's a little bit upsetting and I think to myself that I expect too much from the clientele. The Herald of Jesus is asked to leave. Turns out he's a veteran and has some problems. He just wants to talk about Jesus. We tell him that nobody else wants to talk about Jesus, especially when you drop the F-Bomb and the N-Bomb and talk about him being a bigot and seem to be really angry about it all. It ruins things. He understands, gathers his things and leaves. The pious drunks clap and cheer the security for their effort and then see the photo booth, take some pics, and move out to the parking lot.
People mingle around in the lobby, on the couch is the kid that was allergic to the vodka and was turning bright red could have sworn he drank less this week than last week. How could he be this fucked up? He slowly slids down the couch in the lobby. His friends come to check on him regularly. He'll be alright he mumbles. No need to call the hospital and send for an ambulance.
It's another night at the Hotel on the south side of town. Kinda sketchy. It sure isn't in the walking district. Not for normal people anyways. The residents of the 65+ Mobile Home park across the street out back throw high fives and make their way home. It's a group of 5 elderly folks that frequent the club, ones in a wheelchair. Hell, it's right across the street, and they can see young people. You know you'll do that kinda shit when you turn 65+ and there's a fun nightclub across the street. The wandering homeless are always walking by. Some push shopping carts and stop halfway down the sidewalk to ponder what's around the curve in the road up ahead. Do they really want to go down that road?
Do I really want to be here working the night shift at this hotel? It is air conditioned and the "It" Hotel of the Coachella valley, so that kinda works. It's fun and safe. There's no need to worry about bullshit. The security is still here, they're making sure things don't get out of control and wander the property and tell people to shush if there's a complaint. You get two shushes and then we call the police. They also stop the bullshit. They mostly make sure the guests don't pass out in the shubbery. Sleeping in the bushes. It's also a favorite for the wandering homeless. The security staff tells me they can never be too careful with rousing a bush sleeper. It could be a guest or a homeless person. You never know, and it's better to err on the side of caution. Regardless, the homeless have to get out and the guests have to go to their rooms.
It's the best part of the night. People splashing in the pool are told to shut up and get out.
I tally the numbers. How much did this sucker make tonight. A lot. It takes 8 hours to run all the reports and work it all out. Some reports are only printed after a certain time. The guests are nice and see that I have shit to do. Paperwork everywhere. It's a paper party. They ask their requests from the De Facto Manager and I grant them with pleasure. Some requests take longer than others, but I deal with all the bullshit and tuck everyone in.
The housekeepers are still here, also. They buzz around and sweep, mop, dust, and empty the trash.
Around 2:30am, a homeless woman comes in and want's to know what's happening. I tell her she's the only thing that's happening. I tell her the hotel provided entertainment has ended for the night, and she's responsible for her fun, now. She doesn't give a shit. She says' she's going to use the ATM and pulls out like $500. She gives a little yip and does a jig. Her torn up friend comes inside and want's to know what's keeping her so long. She want's to go to the bar. The door is closed. She wants to start partying immediately. Her friend tells her he knows where they can go and they dance out the door.
I'm running mad statistics, figuring out what the ADR and total REV and what all the ARR and DEP get to do. Stacking a bunch of paper on top of each other until the stack is like a foot high. It get's two feet high on Sunday. My trainer leans over the counter and chit chat's with her boyfriend. He works at the new Pool Bar down the street. Things are going kick ass, and that's all there is to it. I continue to stack papers.
The clubbers that linger in the parking lot, play their music. Somebodies still dancing. You are.
I'm busy doing shit. Cigarettes are for sale and will cost you over $10. The Japanese tourists show up out of nowhere and demand to know the color and size of all the merchandise in the showcase. I tell them I only have time for a couple items, but they can buy online.
"Online?"
"Yes, Online."
I get back to my reports and rack up the chips. How much did we make tonight? The receipts aren't in just yet, but by the roar of the crowd tells me we did another $1M night. We're making money. Printing it.
The rooms are $300+ and the drinks are selling 28 hours a day.
The evenings are cool. I need coolant to run properly. It's possible to deal with all these numbers at night, otherwise, my brain would overheat. It's the perfect time to do the audit. Working the night audit.
I call a couple cabs and the night moves into the early, early morning hours. Only the serious drugs keep people up this late, so it's better when nobody shows up. No news is def good news at that time of the morning.
Finally, in the early morning, a man hovers around the ashtrays outside the lobby and steals a couple butts. It's about 5am and security is bullshitting with the rest of the staff in the lobby, as usual, and just so happens to see all this and follows the young man around to the other ash tray and talks to him. Turns out he is homeless and has a real bad sore on his left hand. It was almost all puss. His whole left hand. Horrible mess. He just needed some smokes and then left, walking down into the valley from this hot mess of a town.
The DJ has finished playing and the drunks are clinging to the bar. The hotel entertainment for the night has ended. It's 1:30am. The drunks make their way out, others go to the pool; others go to their rooms and others sing and one person is talking about Jesus. Nobody wants to hear about Jesus at 1:30am. Maybe 7am, but not 1:30am. We receive several complaints about the Saint and even the bartender thinks he might be on some serious drugs. Security get's involved. Obviously nobody could debate him. It's a little bit upsetting and I think to myself that I expect too much from the clientele. The Herald of Jesus is asked to leave. Turns out he's a veteran and has some problems. He just wants to talk about Jesus. We tell him that nobody else wants to talk about Jesus, especially when you drop the F-Bomb and the N-Bomb and talk about him being a bigot and seem to be really angry about it all. It ruins things. He understands, gathers his things and leaves. The pious drunks clap and cheer the security for their effort and then see the photo booth, take some pics, and move out to the parking lot.
People mingle around in the lobby, on the couch is the kid that was allergic to the vodka and was turning bright red could have sworn he drank less this week than last week. How could he be this fucked up? He slowly slids down the couch in the lobby. His friends come to check on him regularly. He'll be alright he mumbles. No need to call the hospital and send for an ambulance.
It's another night at the Hotel on the south side of town. Kinda sketchy. It sure isn't in the walking district. Not for normal people anyways. The residents of the 65+ Mobile Home park across the street out back throw high fives and make their way home. It's a group of 5 elderly folks that frequent the club, ones in a wheelchair. Hell, it's right across the street, and they can see young people. You know you'll do that kinda shit when you turn 65+ and there's a fun nightclub across the street. The wandering homeless are always walking by. Some push shopping carts and stop halfway down the sidewalk to ponder what's around the curve in the road up ahead. Do they really want to go down that road?
Do I really want to be here working the night shift at this hotel? It is air conditioned and the "It" Hotel of the Coachella valley, so that kinda works. It's fun and safe. There's no need to worry about bullshit. The security is still here, they're making sure things don't get out of control and wander the property and tell people to shush if there's a complaint. You get two shushes and then we call the police. They also stop the bullshit. They mostly make sure the guests don't pass out in the shubbery. Sleeping in the bushes. It's also a favorite for the wandering homeless. The security staff tells me they can never be too careful with rousing a bush sleeper. It could be a guest or a homeless person. You never know, and it's better to err on the side of caution. Regardless, the homeless have to get out and the guests have to go to their rooms.
It's the best part of the night. People splashing in the pool are told to shut up and get out.
I tally the numbers. How much did this sucker make tonight. A lot. It takes 8 hours to run all the reports and work it all out. Some reports are only printed after a certain time. The guests are nice and see that I have shit to do. Paperwork everywhere. It's a paper party. They ask their requests from the De Facto Manager and I grant them with pleasure. Some requests take longer than others, but I deal with all the bullshit and tuck everyone in.
The housekeepers are still here, also. They buzz around and sweep, mop, dust, and empty the trash.
Around 2:30am, a homeless woman comes in and want's to know what's happening. I tell her she's the only thing that's happening. I tell her the hotel provided entertainment has ended for the night, and she's responsible for her fun, now. She doesn't give a shit. She says' she's going to use the ATM and pulls out like $500. She gives a little yip and does a jig. Her torn up friend comes inside and want's to know what's keeping her so long. She want's to go to the bar. The door is closed. She wants to start partying immediately. Her friend tells her he knows where they can go and they dance out the door.
I'm running mad statistics, figuring out what the ADR and total REV and what all the ARR and DEP get to do. Stacking a bunch of paper on top of each other until the stack is like a foot high. It get's two feet high on Sunday. My trainer leans over the counter and chit chat's with her boyfriend. He works at the new Pool Bar down the street. Things are going kick ass, and that's all there is to it. I continue to stack papers.
The clubbers that linger in the parking lot, play their music. Somebodies still dancing. You are.
I'm busy doing shit. Cigarettes are for sale and will cost you over $10. The Japanese tourists show up out of nowhere and demand to know the color and size of all the merchandise in the showcase. I tell them I only have time for a couple items, but they can buy online.
"Online?"
"Yes, Online."
I get back to my reports and rack up the chips. How much did we make tonight? The receipts aren't in just yet, but by the roar of the crowd tells me we did another $1M night. We're making money. Printing it.
The rooms are $300+ and the drinks are selling 28 hours a day.
The evenings are cool. I need coolant to run properly. It's possible to deal with all these numbers at night, otherwise, my brain would overheat. It's the perfect time to do the audit. Working the night audit.
I call a couple cabs and the night moves into the early, early morning hours. Only the serious drugs keep people up this late, so it's better when nobody shows up. No news is def good news at that time of the morning.
Finally, in the early morning, a man hovers around the ashtrays outside the lobby and steals a couple butts. It's about 5am and security is bullshitting with the rest of the staff in the lobby, as usual, and just so happens to see all this and follows the young man around to the other ash tray and talks to him. Turns out he is homeless and has a real bad sore on his left hand. It was almost all puss. His whole left hand. Horrible mess. He just needed some smokes and then left, walking down into the valley from this hot mess of a town.
Hot City Diary: Work Day 70
Hot City Diary: Work Day 70
The DJ has finished playing and the drunks are clinging to the bar. The hotel entertainment for the night has ended. It's 1:30am. The drunks make their way out, others go to the pool and sing and talk about Jesus. Nobody wants to hear about Jesus at 1:30am. Maybe 7am, but not 1:30am. We receive several complaints and even the bartender thinks he might be on some serious drugs. Security get's involved. Obviously nobody could debate him. It's a little bit upsetting and I think to myself that I expect too much from the clientele. The Herald of Jesus is asked to leave. Turns out he's a veteran and has some problems. He just wants to talk about Jesus. We tell him that nobody else wants to talk about Jesus, especially when you drop the F-Bomb and the N-Bomb and talk about him being a bigot and seem to be really angry about it all. It ruins things. He understands, gathers his things and leaves. The pious drunks clap and cheer the security for their effort and then see the photo booth, take some pics, and move out to the parking lot.
People mingle around in the lobby, on the couch is the kid that was allergic to the vodka and was turning bright red could have sworn he drank less this week than last week. How could he be this fucked up? He slowly slids down the couch in the lobby. His friends come to check on him regularly. He'll be alright he mumbles. No need to call the hospital and send for an ambulance.
It's another night at the Hotel on the south side of town. Kinda sketchy. It sure isn't in the walking district. Not for normal people anyways. The residents of the 65+ Mobile Home park across the street out back throw high fives and make their way home. It's a group of 5 elderly folks that frequent the club, ones in a wheelchair. Hell, it's right across the street, and they can see young people. You know you'll do that kinda shit when you turn 65+ and there's a fun nightclub across the street. The wandering homeless are always walking by. Some push shopping carts and stop halfway down the sidewalk to ponder what's around the curve in the road up ahead. Do they really want to go down that road?
Do I really want to be here working the night shift at this hotel? It is air conditioned and the "It" Hotel of the Coachella valley, so that kinda works. It's fun and safe. There's no need to worry about bullshit. The security is still here, they're making sure things don't get out of control and wander the property and tell people to shush if there's a complaint. You get two shushes and then we call the police. They also stop the bullshit. They mostly make sure the guests don't pass out in the shubbery. Sleeping in the bushes. It's also a favorite for the wandering homeless. The security staff tells me they can never be too careful with rousing a bush sleeper. It could be a guest or a homeless person. You never know, and it's better to err on the side of caution. Regardless, the homeless have to get out and the guests have to go to their rooms.
It's the best part of the night. People splashing in the pool are told to shut up and get out.
I tally the numbers. How much did this sucker make tonight. A lot. It takes 8 hours to run all the reports and work it all out. Some reports are only printed after a certain time. The guests are nice and see that I have shit to do. Paperwork everywhere. It's a paper party. They ask their requests from the De Facto Manager and I grant them with pleasure. Some requests take longer than others, but I deal with all the bullshit and tuck everyone in.
The housekeepers are still here, also. They buzz around and sweep, mop, dust, and empty the trash.
Around 2:30am, a homeless woman comes in and want's to know what's happening. I tell her she's the only thing that's happening. I tell her the hotel provided entertainment has ended for the night, and she's responsible for her fun, now. She doesn't give a shit. She says' she's going to use the ATM and pulls out like $500. She gives a little yip and does a jig. Her torn up friend comes inside and want's to know what's keeping her so long. She want's to go to the bar. The door is closed. She wants to start partying immediately. Her friend tells her he knows where they can go and they dance out the door.
I'm running mad statistics, figuring out what the ADR and total REV and what all the ARR and DEP get to do. Stacking a bunch of paper on top of each other until the stack is like a foot high. It get's two feet high on Sunday. My trainer leans over the counter and chit chat's with her boyfriend. He works at the new Pool Bar down the street. Things are going kick ass, and that's all there is to it. I continue to stack papers.
The clubbers that linger in the parking lot, play their music. Somebodies still dancing. You are.
I'm busy doing shit. Cigarettes are for sale and will cost you over $10. The Japanese tourists show up out of nowhere and demand to know the color and size of all the merchandise in the showcase. I tell them I only have time for a couple items, but they can buy online.
"Online?"
"Yes, Online."
I get back to my reports and rack up the chips. How much did we make tonight? The receipts aren't in just yet, but by the roar of the crowd tells me we did another $1M night. We're making money. Printing it.
The rooms are $300+ and the drinks are selling 28 hours a day.
The rooms are $300+ and the drinks are selling 28 hours a day.
The evenings are cool. I need coolant to run properly. It's possible to deal with all these numbers at night, otherwise, my brain would overheat. It's the perfect time to do the audit. Working the night audit.
I call a couple cabs and the night moves into the early, early morning hours. Only the serious drugs keep people up this late, so it's better when nobody shows up. No news is def good news at that time of the morning.
Finally, in the early morning, a man hovers around the ashtrays outside the lobby and steals a couple butts. It's about 5am and security is bullshitting with the rest of the staff in the lobby, as usual, and just so happens to see all this and follows the young man around to the other ash tray and talks to him. Turns out he was homeless and had a real bad sore on his left hand. It was almost all puss. His whole left hand. Horrible mess. He just needed some smokes and then left, walking down into the valley from this hot mess of a town.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Hot City Diary: Day of the Black Bug
The burn is over. The sun finally moves into the mountain cave and makes it's way thru tunnels in the planet to reappear tomorrow somewhere on the other side of the backyard. The temperature goes down a few degrees. The cement around the house radiates its stored heat into the cooler air, now that the sun isn't cooking it, and things seem to be cooling off slowly.
I can take my aqua-suit off now.
I'm constantly bathing myself in lukewarm water from the hose connected to this awesome aqua-suit that I've duct taped together. From sun up till sun down the hose drags behind me, and even though it slows me down it's the only way that I can get around in the patio area during the burn. I've got 50 feet of range and sometimes it doesn't seem like much, but it's more than enough. It spans the patio and that's all I need it for. I need a whole different suit to go out into the direct sunlight. Well, really it's just the same thing and my mariachi hat. It even works in the pond. I've tried to build one for my dog, but she bites thru the ties and hoses and other important goodies, so now, I just find her and spray her down whenever she passes out. A special water cannon off my left arm. This aqua-suit is some shit.
I'm constantly bathing myself in lukewarm water from the hose connected to this awesome aqua-suit that I've duct taped together. From sun up till sun down the hose drags behind me, and even though it slows me down it's the only way that I can get around in the patio area during the burn. I've got 50 feet of range and sometimes it doesn't seem like much, but it's more than enough. It spans the patio and that's all I need it for. I need a whole different suit to go out into the direct sunlight. Well, really it's just the same thing and my mariachi hat. It even works in the pond. I've tried to build one for my dog, but she bites thru the ties and hoses and other important goodies, so now, I just find her and spray her down whenever she passes out. A special water cannon off my left arm. This aqua-suit is some shit.
The sun still lights up the sky even though it's gone into the mountain cave. I can feel it getting cooler. We've got about an hour of this light and then the darkness comes.
Last week it brought with it a horde of hummingbird moths. Fluttering around the Jacaranda tree. They look like thousands of hummingbirds in the dark, but up close with a flashlight in the dark they're not even half as colorful or majestic. It was better without the flashlight and just believing they were ten thousand hummingbirds doing their thing in the Jacaranda. Ten thousand moths is frightening.
That was last week. This week brings something different.
Besides the flying cockroaches, hummingbird moths, potato bugs, June bugs, fire ants, and wasps, now we have an invasion of black beetles. They mix with the swarms of mosquitoes that are birthed from the pond.
I still have plenty of time to shutter the doors, but I do it early anyway. Clink. Clink. You never know, I might pass out and not have the time to do it later.
I lay back on the lounger in my helmet and banana slinger and contemplate emptying the pool, cleaning off the algae and then building an underwater mansion deep, deep below this heat and these bugs. I lean back and start to doze off; dreaming of running up and down the corridors of my new underwater mansion. The library is my favorite room. Stacked with books and paintings, all to be enjoyed at 76 degrees Fahrenheit. The underwater mansion is the house of the future. Great cooling system.
I fall asleep for a couple hours and awake to somethings crawling up my nose. It's been like this every night lately. A complete nightmare.
I still have plenty of time to shutter the doors, but I do it early anyway. Clink. Clink. You never know, I might pass out and not have the time to do it later.
I lay back on the lounger in my helmet and banana slinger and contemplate emptying the pool, cleaning off the algae and then building an underwater mansion deep, deep below this heat and these bugs. I lean back and start to doze off; dreaming of running up and down the corridors of my new underwater mansion. The library is my favorite room. Stacked with books and paintings, all to be enjoyed at 76 degrees Fahrenheit. The underwater mansion is the house of the future. Great cooling system.
I fall asleep for a couple hours and awake to somethings crawling up my nose. It's been like this every night lately. A complete nightmare.
Soaring thru the air in hordes. They fill all the space in my backyard, landing on everything and when every surface is covered, they hover in the air. They buzz around and bump into any light source. These small black metallic bugs are trouble. I should have known better to fall asleep outside; I'm covered in black beetles, mosquitoes with some June bugs and ants thrown in. The mosquitoes are the most annoying because they bite, but the black beetles are just gross. They crawl everywhere, and I mean everywhere.
No need to panic. Not like yesterday, anyways. I calmly hose myself down,making sure to get every nook and cranny, then make my way inside and close the door. It's just another night in hot city.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Hot City Diary: Day 60
Finally scored a job at a local hotel. Between all the nudist hotels and the budget motels and the corporate hotels, I've found one that is the epitome of cool and I start soon.
It's gonna be a great way to beat the heat. Finally somebody else will be paying to keep me cool.
It's so damn hot out. The first month A/C bill was $500. Yowzers. Of course we run the pool, and some other electricity in the house, but the main strain on the electrical grid is the A/C. I'll have to stop using it so much or it will put me in the poor house. Shelly mentions a swamp cooler, so I pulled out the old one that Dirty Dan left at the house and plugged it in and filled it with a little water and it really smells like a swamp. That's the only thing that happened. Swampy air all over the house. Shelly agrees and we unplug it and put it away.
I wonder what those poor kids under the bridge use for A/C?
It's gonna be a great way to beat the heat. Finally somebody else will be paying to keep me cool.
It's so damn hot out. The first month A/C bill was $500. Yowzers. Of course we run the pool, and some other electricity in the house, but the main strain on the electrical grid is the A/C. I'll have to stop using it so much or it will put me in the poor house. Shelly mentions a swamp cooler, so I pulled out the old one that Dirty Dan left at the house and plugged it in and filled it with a little water and it really smells like a swamp. That's the only thing that happened. Swampy air all over the house. Shelly agrees and we unplug it and put it away.
I wonder what those poor kids under the bridge use for A/C?
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