The writing has been on the wall. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I have got to move out of this hotel before I go absolutely insane. How do I know this? First, the housekeeper is trying to come into my room at six in the morning. Six in the gad-damn morning! Can you believe that shit? Neither could I.
That was weeks ago now. And yet I am still there. Then my toilet starts emitting the foulest emanations. Ever. Bringing up stale stink from the depths of Saigon's sewers. Into my room. Up close and personal. Someone else's feces floating far too close to my nose. Unacceptable. Yet I seem to have accepted it.
That was last week. And then yesterday I found a cockroach in my bathroom. The first roach I have seen in any hotel in over six months! And it happens in this hotel. Another sign. I don't mind seeing roaches in the streets, but not in my room. Not cool.
What will happen next? I don't want to find out. Friday the 13th is this week. I don't want to be here. Not because I am superstitious, but because I am ready to move on. I have been ready. I was born ready. Get me out of here. NOW!
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