Jackson, Mississippi.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Ba-ba-ba-baby…”
The song is pouring out from under the door of the room across the hall from me. I can’t help but smile. I mouth the words to the next verse as I stick the keycard into the slot above the handle and enter my room.

Despite being in Little Rock for only two hours, the room already looks lived in. A mess of my belongings are scattered on the counter near the sink. There are several bags piled together at the foot of one bed mingling with dirty socks, cycling gear, a few books. I turn on Food Network for some background noise and return a few e-mails before dragging the clothing pile into the hallway.

“Ba-ba-ba-baby…”

I pause. An armful of grease-marked jeans and short sleeved jerseys slip to the floor. Seriously? Again? I replay my actions since last being in the hall and approximate a fifteen minute gap. Maybe fourteen. I laugh and hum the song as I kick the fallen articles towards guest laundry services.

Doing laundry in a hotel is a gamble. Who is really going to open your wash load and steal something? Likely no one. But realistically, I don’t get to do laundry too often. If someone were feeling bored and was jacked up on enough 5 hour energy, I would be left entering the local mall in either a tiny black dress or a swimsuit with leggings- the only items remaining in my suitcase. I’m feeling brave, so I turn back to the room leaving the items unattended.

“Here’s somethin’ that you’re never gonna forget.”

Now I am completely certain he has played this song a minimum of five times. What makes me think that this BTO abuser tick? Is he a businessman possibly getting ready for an interview, getting all psyched up? A magician, perhaps? As I was switching loads from the washer to the drier the music got a bit louder. I heard the steps grow closer and I forced myself to continue stuffing the drier in order to catch the specimen out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, his socked footsteps moved my way, into the attached room where he entered and disappeared in a flash. The only remnant of his existence being a sign taped haphazardly to the Coke machine. Out of Order.

Having just used the machine myself, I stared at the sign for a few moments wondering if I should take it down or possibly return it. I wondered if I should talk to the creature about his social experiment. If I should knock.

I stood between his door and mine. In one room, Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives. In the other? Something I’m never going to, never going to forget.