The Butcher Shop

Walkers, pimps, wheel chairs, funny weird people everywhere. Sandwich shops, pizza places, more sandwich shops. I arrive at the Southern Hotel on Sixth Avenue and B Street.  I had parked my car on fourth Street and walked down to the hotel. Bail Bond offices, courts, shops of every type, and the street people looking for anything.
   It is almost noon time and the street people are doing their thing, jiving, singing, grabbing and just looking around. The hotel is about one hundred years old. Two ladies sit and speak about nothing and make it sound important.
   The lobby's office is set behind black metal bars. An old time key rack holds letters. A sign says he'll return after eleven thirty. I feel shitty ever since my own daughter, threw me out of "her apartment" a couple days ago. Why I could have strangled her! She wished to be alone.  .  
    That is why I went to the Southern. A friend from the 'Y' told me it was quite good and didn't allow bed bugs or cockroaches like the other one. A caned lady took me inside her room. "Not bad! No not bad!" I asked the dark haired one if she came with the room. Her room had a large T.V. and ample places to store clothes. It had a sink. It was three times the size of the "Y".
     I went to the corner sub to grab a sandwich. The manager would return at eleven thirty. A toothless  man smiled at me through the window of the Sub restaurant. A lady poked a stick inside the trash can while a Blue Trolley went by...It was time for me to meet the manager.
     He took me to the one remaining room. I loved it. The window had a view of San Diego north. A large clothes closet was to my left and the bed looked three times larger than my other so-called-hotel.
     "Let me show you where the toilets and showers are located."  He led me down the hall and unlocked one. He unlocked three shower rooms and also a two toilet rooms. I imagined a few gunslingers like Wyatt --- stayed in the flashy hotel in its prime.
     We took the old elevator that only carried two down to the lobby. The manager gave me an application that I would return the next morning But my Balboa Park Thursday dance now beckoned. I looked at another hotel and found my car. Still seething mad, I just knew music and a few dances would get me off my melancholy mood....It did! 

  NUTS AND BOLTS: Sometimes tough love is needed when dealing with a daughter. Just maybe she'll finally get a job.