Well, hookers and crack, actually. Which is what the 50-year-old man down the hall from us was into the other night.
The scene began with the hotel manager waking half of us up with his yelling and screaming. A small sample: "This sh*t does not happen in my hotel. F*ck that! You can f*ck her and do your crack somewhere else."
It's rare that your noisy hotel neighbour turns out to be the manager.
Boyfriend wouldn't let me venture out into the hallway for a better look. Something about "it's not safe." So we stared through the peephole at all kinds of nothing. Protective men. Hmph.
But luckily, our windows overlook the scenic highway and the scenic front entrance. Where an unmarked police car was waiting. I brushed my teeth and looked out the window. The hooker came out and saw me watching. We made eye contact and had a little moment where she was a downward spiraler and I was a bourgeois peeper. Boyfriend scolded me on my bad spying technique.
The john came out afterward and another cop car pulled up. He got frisked and questioned and put into the car. It was depressing to see how old he was. And how young the girl was. But besides dark themes of societal and moral decay, it was really entertaining. You don't see this stuff at the Fairmont, that's for sure.
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