Seige Mentality

     Saturday night and the motel parking lot was empty and dark. Its location is downtown in a city that's seen better times. Boarded up homes stand behind a line of trees.
     I should have turned the car around. But I was tired and looking for a bargain. In this part of Ohio, motels jack up their already high rates on Fridays and Saturdays. This fleabag joint keeps the rate steady at $39 per night.
     While I waited for the desk clerk behind the plexiglass, a shady looking man loitered outside. After a couple of minutes he walked inside and drew near.
     "Hello" I said.
     He didn't reply and headed down the hallway.
     I asked clerk why there were no customers.
     "We've got 'em," he said. "They're monthly. They're out back."
     "But I don't see any cars."
     "They don't own cars."
     "Oh."
     "Have there been any problems here, you know, safety issues."
     "Not recently."
     At least the guy was being honest.
     My room has a door facing the parking lot and another door facing the hallway. The locks are rinky dink and the chains flimsy. There are no sliding bolts. To calm my worries, I placed a desk against the door facing the parking lot. The refrigerator in the room now rests against the other door.
     I parked the car across the lot; that way, nobody will know what room has an occupant. But keeping the car away from my room makes the car vulnerable to theft.
     I've made a couple of forays to the car for things I forgot to take in. During each trip, a dog has checked me out, darted through a hole in a chain link fence, and ran away. I don't know the species. It's s tiny animal, the kind that looks like a hot dog. A Dachshund perhaps? It's hard to identify in dim light.
    I whistled at him but could not entice him back. Too bad. Petting a dog would have been nice, given this grim setting.
     After getting my stuff squared away in the room, I shut off the light and peered out the window. I needed to check on my car. To my surprise, the dog stood on the pavement near my door.
     As if on cue, the animal squatted and took a crap.
     It's been four hours since that incident. I've been working at my laptop and uploading photos. I just looked out the window again. Three more cars in the lot.
     Neighbors! Fellow travelers.
     I'm feeling a little better about this place.
     Tomorrow morning, I'll need to watch where I step when I open the door.

Morning Update:
          A silhouette passed across the brightness of the window drape. A  brushing sound
accompanied this movement. Somebody was sweeping the pavement. Was that turd being
cleaned up?
     I opened the door and encountered an older man bent over a broom. He was washing the
walkways in front of the doors to each room. My sense is that he's a long term resident performing a labor for room deal.
    "What's up with that dog?" I said.
     He told me that nobody knows where it lives.
     I asked him to explain the lack of customers on a Saturday night.
     He blamed the slowdown on sports. The Ohio Buckeyes football team had played a game. As a rule, people stay home in droves to watch Buckeye football.
    We talked pro sports. He said the Cleveland Browns suck. Lots of people in this part of Ohio follow the Pittsburgh Steelers. 
     As we conversed, I realized the man hadn't noticed the dog turd. I didn't point it out. Why ruin the vibe by suggesting that he go clean up dog crap?
     Minutes later the perpetrator of the turd showed up behind the fence. The dog was acting skittish again. It watched me taking its photo. I think the dog wants a friend but is too spooked to trust anyone.

    The clean up man wished me safe travels.
     In the office, I returned the room key--a real key, not one of those plastic cards--to the proprietress. She refunded my five dollar deposit. 
     I told told her I'm traveling often in Ohio. She said she'd give me the same cheap rate for a better room upstairs if I visited again. Her personality was engaging.
     My experience at the Siege Arms Motel (not the real name) demonstrates something about human
nature. Once we make connections with people, our opinions of a place change for the better,
even at a run down motel. I've become acquainted with a clean up man, an owner, and a feral dog.  Anything that eases the burden of loneliness on the campaign trail is worth pursuing.
     During my next visit, I'll sleep better.