TalesFromTheFrontDesk: Why is it always on Sundays?

This is my first time posting here, but I’ve been a long time lurker. For some background info, I’ve worked NA at an older motel in a nice suburban area for 2 years now.

Now I’m not a superstitious guy by any means. Don’t believe in ghosts or demons or any of that jazz. But I’ll be damned if a full moon doesn’t bring the crazy out in people (I guess I’m a little ‘stitious). And lately, there has been an influx of meth-heads in my normally quiet neck of the woods.

This all started around 1:30 am around five and a half hours ago. A disheveled woman walks in and I can instantly tell my leisurely night of watching cheesy cop dramas is at an end. She walks up the front desk and asks “Can I please stay in here? I don’t want to go back out there. The guy in room 142 has a gun and a whole bunch of dope, and he was trying to touch me and do stuff to me. I barely got away.” At this point, I call the police and inform the of the situation. Just the way I wanted to spend my night- talking to police and dealing with the inevitable nosey guests that want to now every detail. They ask to speak to her to get more details. After about a minute of talking, she hands me the phone and excuses herself to the restroom. I speak to dispatch for a few seconds longer when the officer walks up and asks me about the situation. I tell him what I know and point her out to him. He talks to her for about 10 minutes, during which time I step out front to have a much needed cigarette. He walks out and tells me he’s going to go check the room. That’s when I remembered something.

“Hey, by the way officer, she went into the restroom seconds before you got here.”

Well, he turned around right away, and walked back into the lobby and into the women’s restroom. I didn’t watch him search it, but while I was trying to enjoy my smoke, I saw multiple police running through the parking lot towards 142. Great, there goes the slight calmness the cigarette had given me. That was my cue to go back inside and wait this shit out. I walk in, and what do you know? The woman is being arrested. She had gone in the bathroom but oh no, not to flush her drugs. She simply wrapped them in toilet paper and hid it. In an empty garbage can. So they search her purse and find money in an envelope with the name of the man in the room. At this point, her stories are slightly changing, but she’s still sticking to the “he tried to touch me” story.

The end for the guy was anti-climactic, as he willingly came out and surrendered. They were both arrested for possession (and maybe with intent because from what I could hear, they had a couple grand on them), evicted from the room (obviously) and placed on the DNR. Their room is trashed and littered with their belongings and left over food from previous meals strewn about. I’m still not sure why she decided to have me basically call the cops on herself, but math makes people do some crazy things. This isn’t my first run-in with crazy here.

I don’t know why the full moon does it, but its always a weird shift during one. Add that to the fact that almost every time I’ve had to call the police, it was a Sunday, and well… I guess you just can’t explain some things.

By: Buzz8522