Sunday was supposed to be the shit. I’d planned to drive up and meet up with friends to feast and celebrate the closing of our 21-day vegan detox and our friend’s birthday. After that, me, Akilah and Monique (the Radical Selfie crew) were meeting up at Jeju Sauna & Spa Home of Wellbeing (it’s as amazing as it sounds).
Instead, I ended up in a scary ass, raggedy ass motel in Dublin, Georgia that really wasn’t a motel but was so raggedy and old and scary that it may as well had been. Plus, the rooms were only accessible from the outside–just like a motel.
You may read into omens better than me, so here’s two. About 50 miles into my trip, I ran over a snake on the highway. All kinds of chills, but I thought of it as symbolic; me overcoming a fear, maybe? About 20 or so miles later, it started raining, and in my rearview mirror, the biggest, boldest rainbow ever arched across the sky. I almost cried it was so beautiful. All is well.
Fast forward a few more miles and my dashboard says that my tire pressure is too low. No biggie. I pull over, fill it air, and keep it moving. Five minutes hadn’t passed when the air ran out again. Shit. Pulled over, filled it with Fix-a-Flat, pumped it with more air, and kept it moving. Same thang. Only this time, there wasn’t a gas station nearby.
Pulled off onto the next exit, which happened to be in Dublin. Rode until my tire pressure was at zero. An officer pulled up (and with all the shit in the news, that was scary enough) to change my tire for me. Popped the trunk and I’ll be damned. No spare. I thanked him, asked for my exact location, and called Triple A.
The best and least expensive option, being that it was a Sunday evening, was to have my car towed to a nearby tire shop, then call a rental company and have a car delivered to me. Cool. Hung up with Triple A, called Hertz, and the closest rental car company open period was over an hour away, and they weren’t delivering cars that far. Shit.
By the time the tow driver pulled up, I figured my best option was just to call it a night in Dublin. Note: Another thing this trip taught me was how fucking scary the world is for a woman, who happens to be black, to be traveling alone. Being in the truck alone with him as the sky grew dark was scary factor #2.
We dropped my car off at the tire shop, then he took me to a nearby hotel. They wanted $90 plus tax for the shittiest piece of shit ever. No. Just no. I went to Priceline and learned that the highest rated hotel they had was 2.5 stars. The only other in town was .7 miles away. I run about two miles per day, so no problem. Then the ladies at the front desk reminded me how unsafe it was for a woman walking the roadway alone at this hour. True, true.
So I called a cab and it was raggedy as shit. Scary factor #3. The driver failed to tell me that instead of taking me directly to my location, he was picking up another passenger first. Another man. Scary factor #4. I prayed the whole way to the hotel. Went to check in at the front desk and he was training a new employee. The only problem I had is that it took so long, another guy had come in before they finished. He made his point to say that I was the only one in the room, so I would only need a queen bed. Gave me my room number, my key, and pointed me in the direction of the room. Nigga, please. I waited until the other guy checked in, explained the danger of what he’d just done, and asked for another room. Got it, but the deadbolt was broken. Called the front desk and they said all the rooms were that way. Scary factor #5.
Breathe, Trelani, breathe. Decided to push the dresser against the door, draw the curtains tight, and do my best to doze off. To make what’s already a long story short, I’ll close with the fact that I needed that night. I needed to be in a city that didn’t have a damn thing to do, where I knew no one, in a hotel that didn’t have a damn thing to do, so that I would have the necessary silence and solitude to hear from God.
What could have very well been perceived as one of the worst days ever turned out to actually be one of the best. For one, I realized how calm I was throughout. The old me would’ve bugged the fuck out. Coincidentally, smack dab in the middle of the madness, Jamie messaged me for her upcoming Black Girl’s Guide to Calm, asking how I find my calm. I also did a lot of much-needed feeling, thinking and writing while peeping how much my people love me and look out for me (super shout out to Kris and Akilah). Now home, I’m actually grateful for my scary ass, raggedy ass, amazing ass Sunday. #YourPerceptionIsYourReality
Comments
4 responses to “I was supposed to be at the spa. Not a scary ass, raggedy ass motel.”
Wow, I didn’t know the details, Trelani! So much Life Juice in that experience. Buggin’ out was such a fuckyn option, and it’s boss that you straightened your spine, pulled that dresser to that door to honor how you wanted to feel, and just take the mental space to just listen inward and calm yourself. Well told story, griot woman!
Thank you! There’s so much more to write about it, but the post was damn near a 1,000 words as is. lol. An appreciated experience nonetheless. Thanks again.
Trelani!!! You tough little cookie you!!! Running over the snake would have been enough to do me in. You handled the motel situation like a queen — especially when you pointed out to the fool the danger of what he just did. What a story!!!!
Snakes, which used to be my number one fear, have been visiting me a lot lately, usually in a dream. I’m not getting the same bad omen/betrayal vibes are usually associated with it though. I couldn’t too much be upset with the front desk guy. He didn’t know (but he does now lol).