Sunset Motel

Even someone as classy as me must admit I «stayed» at this tawdry motel within staggering distance from the Rockland Café twice. Is my confession OMG-​ing you yet? Well allow me to elaborate.
Superdive motels like this exist for the dangerously drunk to lurch to when they can’t make it home or to embark on sleazy affairs at; for my throwback breezy and I, it was a little of column A, a little of column B. In retrospect, it seems like an adventure into slumming. This sketchy place is $ 60 a night and likely most patrons won’t recall a moment of the experience.
Through my drunken haze of the two occasions (we got the same room each time), I was delighted to find no chalk outline on the floor or mysterious stains on the bed linen. Opening the closet revealed a Goody brush with clumps of hair in it on the floor, which didn’t bode well for my faith in the housekeeping department.
The bathroom had no shower, but the toilet and sink work and they did provide toilet paper and a mirror. I saw a proud soul had the gumption to scribe their name on the wall (no it wasn’t «Kilroy was here») .
There was a twin bed, two night stands, and tv which provided basic channels, but when you have to clutch a mattress to keep the room from spinning that’s really all you need.
In the grey light of morning, one can leave to get hangover sustenance at the nearby Einstein’s or Panera, shaking your mind like an Etch-​a-​Sketch erasing the events of the night before, to be forgotten like a skeleton in a closet or hairbrush, if you will.