Suddenly, the lights inside the fitness center came on all at once. This instant illumination temporarily blinded me. It took my eyes several seconds to adjust from night vision to the brightness of the lights.
As soon as I could see again, I noticed two young men standing inside the fitness center. They were looking directly at me. The lights must have framed my form in the pool foyer’s doorway. The men appeared to be in their late teens to early twenties. One looked Hispanic, the other was white. Both carried handguns and looked less than friendly. I immediately wanted to get the hell out of there, but the only way out of the pool area was through the fitness center, meaning that I would have to pass these two newcomers to make my exit.
If they hadn’t seen me already, I would have tried to hide. But it was too late for that. I knew I was stuck. Either I waited for them to leave or I just bit the bullet and tried to talk to them.
I assumed that these two were with the other looters. That meant that more people might arrive at any second. And even though I had a gun, it was really only for show. I was terrified that I might have to pull the trigger. I didn’t even know if the damn thing was cocked or if the trigger guard or whatever it’s called that keeps the thing from firing was on. I’m so NOT a gun person.
I was just gathering myself in an effort to make my introduction when I remembered my clothes. I was still only clad in a pool towel, and my clothes were in a garbage bag behind me. Plus, they were soaking wet since I’d used the pool not only to bathe in, but to do my laundry in as well.
I stood wondering – should I introduce myself or should I get my clothes?
The two guys with guns made the decision for me. They approached quickly, confidently. I backed away from the door, knowing that I was outnumbered, outgunned, and would quickly be outmaneuvered should it come to a gunfight. But I kept my gun gripped tightly in hand all the while.
I had just managed to gather my bag full of clothes by the time the two men pushed their way through the pool area entry doors. They proceeded to ask me (guns trained on me all the while) what I was doing there. I had my own gun aimed back at them, doing my best to hold my trembling hand steady. I’ve never had a gun aimed at me before. It’s something I hope I never have to face again.
Considering that I was standing there dripping wet and clad only in a towel, I immediately had several rather sarcastic remarks shoot through my mind in response to their question regarding my presence. I thought it best however, under the circumstances, that I refrain from any smart-aleck remarks that might get me shot. Instead, I responded as coolly as I could that I was just there to clean up. The men then asked me how I’d gotten inside the pool area. I thought it best to lie, telling them that I’d jimmied the entry door with a screw driver. They didn’t press the issue. I then told them that now that I was clean and cooled off, I was leaving.
I didn’t wait for a response, fearing that it might come in the way of a hail of gunfire. I then quickly made my exit, telling the men that the pool was “all theirs” and never once turning my back on them along the way out.
Thankfully, I guess the mere threat of my weapon was enough to hold them at bay. The whole situation reminded me of when I first got into the hotel business, albeit this particular scenario was by far the most dangerous I’ve ever encountered.
Early on in my hotel management career, I was tossed into all sorts of situations that I was ill prepared to handle. These were critical skill-building moments in which I had to play the part of experienced manager. I quickly realized that if I let on to people that I didn’t know what I was doing, I’d be run over either by guests or employees looking to take advantage of my inexperience. Therefore, I undertook to at least present the façade of knowing what I was doing even if I was just playing things by ear as I went.
So I made it out of the pool area and fitness center unscathed. The problem is, now the looters know I’m here. I kept double-checking that the two men weren’t following me on the way back to my ventilation hallway closet, and I took a circuitous route just in case.
I’m really going to have to watch myself on future forays around the hotel. And now that the looters know I’m here, they may make the connection that I have a food stash somewhere around. That could be problematic if they start searching the hotel for it.
DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!
Not good…definitely NOT good.
10:23 a.m.
I’m writing by the light of one of my gel fuel canisters. The power went out about ten minutes ago. Guess that means the hotel generator has finally conked out. I’m actually surprised it lasted as long as it did. Now that it’s off, though, it presents a new set of challenges.
First off, it’s starting to get stuffy inside my closet hovel. Cozy as it is, the heat may become intolerable after a while. Even though it’s mid-September in Chicago, that doesn’t mean it’s fall yet. Temperatures often still range into the mid to upper-80s during the day, although I have no idea of what they are right now since I haven’t been outside for weeks.
Second, I have no light in here other than my flashlights and my gel fuel canisters which I don’t really want to waste on lighting. I’ll try sneaking down to the banquet department later. I know they have boxes of tea candles there. While they don’t last long, nor do they provide much light, they’re better than using my other resources. The gel fuel burns a sort of bluish flame anyway, and it stinks at providing light to see by. If the looters weren’t here, I’d consider moving into the one of the guest rooms in which I left stashes of supplies. I might still anyway depending on how hot it gets here in my closet. Upstairs, I could at least have natural lighting and be able to open the windows to get some fresh air. But if these jokers downstairs in the lobby have somehow gotten their hands on a room master key, I could be up shit creek if they use it to start searching the rooms.
The loss of the generator also means that the stuff I have in my mini-fridges is going to start spoiling quickly. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. I’m just glad I hedged my bets with plenty of non-refrigerated supplies.
But I have to look at the bright side of things as well. The power going out could also be a good thing. I might even look at it as an opportunity. Now there won’t be any more chances for being surprised like I was at the pool when those dudes flipped on the fitness center lights. I’ll be like a mole navigating his network of underground tunnels. I’m far better off in the dark here than any of these newcomers.
A mole! That’s kind of funny. It’s exactly what I feel like here in my closet den, moving about the hotel through my darkened passages, rarely seeing the light of day.
And without power, maybe these people will get frustrated and move on to greener pastures. I definitely think I can outlast them. I’d say the only thing that I will need in the next few days is another lighter. I only have one, and it’s starting to get low on butane.
11:15 a.m.
It sounds like there is more shooting going on downstairs. I’m curious, but I think I’ll stay put. I was actually just starting to fall into a good sleep when it began. God only knows who is killing who down there.
Okay, I’m going to try to fall back asleep even with the shooting. Makes me so glad I have this spot. I feel relatively safe here.
2:45 p.m.
I awoke from my nap covered in sweat. It’s getting really hot in here now that the power is off. I’m not sure I’ll be able to deal with this heat if it stays this way. It’s bordering on extremely uncomfortable, and I’m going to start sweating out far more water than I’ll easily be able to replenish.
On the good news (I guess) front, the shooting downstairs has stopped. Maybe they’ve all shot one another and I’m on my own again. I know that probably sounds like a horrible thing to say, especially coming from someone who worked in the hospitality business, but those people aren’t what I consider “hospitable”. They seem anything but. And the sooner they’re out of here, the better.
Even though I worked in hospitality
, I never actually felt a true connection with other people. I’ve always been more comfortable as a loner. That’s why I liked the third shift so much. I enjoyed being able to do my own work independent of others. Don’t get me wrong, back when I was in management, I could turn on the charm when necessary and act interested when interacting with guests or employees. But that was mostly on a superficial level. There was never anything of real substance in those relationships. It was all customer service or employee interaction, nothing REAL, nothing truly heartfelt.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. It’s just what it was. But in my current predicament, I think it’s actually a benefit. It makes things easier. I don’t have to worry about other people. That might sound somewhat cold, but I can’t imagine having to go through this thing worried about the welfare of loved ones. It’s hard enough just worrying about myself.
Okay, I’ve got to get out of here. I’m going to suffocate if I don’t get some fresh air. This is getting ridiculous. For as much as I love the safety, security, and privacy of my hidden hovel, I can only take so much.
5:15 p.m.
The heat forcing me out of my ventilation closet may have been a blessing in disguise. After leaving, I crept down to inspect the lobby.
And guess what?! The looters are gone!
The downside? There are some bodies down there. I guess that’s from the shooting I heard. I still don’t know what happened, but apparently a couple people here didn’t make it out of whatever it was. I really don’t want to mess with them. Maybe they were infected with the flu, thus the shooting. The other looters may have suspected them of having the Su flu and decided they couldn’t risk infection themselves. With no cure, they may have had no other option but to handle the situation themselves. Doesn’t really make me want to run right down there and mess with the remains. But with this heat, those bodies are going to start stinking fast. I was already getting wafts of stench just being near that area. It might be the pile of bodies out on the street. Wouldn’t surprise me.
So anyway, with the hotel once again empty, I took the opportunity to relocate back to the basement. It’s much cooler down here. I packed up things like my gel fuel, my candles, and a few other items, and brought them down with me. I still left some of my food up in my ventilation closet as a safeguard.
While I was inspecting the lobby, I took a quick look out the Lamp Light Lounge windows. Downtown Chicago is like a ghost town. It’s so eerily silent. I wonder what’s going on with all this flu mess. I’m dying to know the latest news. I feel so in the dark here – both literally and figuratively. My phone is worthless. It gets no service. I’ve tried to pick up a signal on the alarm clock radio I had in my ventilation closet holdout, but I get nothing but static.
I ventured down to the street level. It is completely OBLITERATED! The looters tore the hell out of that floor. The windows are all smashed out of the store fronts, the interiors of which have all been pilfered of their goods. Some of the spaces had been set on fire. The café on this level had been ransacked too. There is absolutely NOTHING left. They even took the cappuccino machine! Who takes a cappuccino machine in the apocalypse?! What, are they making their high-end coffees during their breaks from shooting each other? They walk back home to present their starving family with THAT? “Look honey, we can feed the kids coffee for dinner tonight! They’ll be bouncing off the walls while we hunker down, trapped inside for the next three days drinking lattes.”
Sheesh! People are crazy!
I guess the good part about the street level being so decimated is that it will hopefully act to deter future looters. Why hit a place that looks like a hurricane just blew through?
I also took a peek at several of the kitchen pantries and walk-in refrigerators. The situation isn’t good. Almost all the food had been raided from the pantries. The refrigerators had been picked fairly clean too. Water was starting to leak from the fridges, but the walk-ins were still cool. They felt good inside. But the way things stand right now, that won’t last long.
Looks like the looters have certainly taken their toll on the place. It’s sad to see a grand ‘ol dame like the Seville with her drawers down around her ankles. Makes me wonder if she’ll ever recover the class and prestige she once had after a dressing down like this.
On the other hand, I’m sure glad I stashed stuff when I had the chance. I probably have enough non-refrigerated items in my various hoards to keep me going another couple months. But then what? What’s the long-term game plan here?
Oddly enough, I haven’t spent much time contemplating a future in which things don’t get back to some semblance of normality. How could they not? Even if the rest of the world wilts under the withering plight of this flu, I live in the United States of America. We have the best of everything. The best doctors. The best technology. The best scientists. The greatest financial system. The mightiest military.
How could a little flu bug debilitate the most powerful nation in the world…that the world has ever SEEN for that matter?
It all seems so ridiculous. Yet here I am, holed up in an empty hotel in downtown Chicago, a city whose once bustling streets are suddenly devoid of vehicles and people.
All is quiet on the lake front.
I guess it’s time to start contemplating the future. But how? Where do I begin? What’s next for me if the hotel doesn’t reopen? Where do I go? What do I do? How do I get food? That’s why I wish I knew what else was going on in or around the city.
I guess now that the looters are gone and the hotel is apparently empty again, maybe I should take my alarm clock radio up on the rooftop and attempt to pick up a signal. Maybe there is a frequency broadcasting some sort of emergency alert message telling people where to go or what to do. I guess it’s my best bet at this point. I think I’ll make that tonight’s project.
10:12 p.m.
I’m eating my exciting meal of a peanut butter sandwich (I’m trying to finish the last of my bread before it begins to mold), a personal-size bag of chips, a breakfast bar, and a soda.
And now for a word about peanut butter. After spending the last few weeks stuck at the hotel, and with peanut butter aplenty, I’ve realized something. A little bit can go a LONG way (especially when you use a spatula to scrape clean the inside of a jar). And you can put the stuff on ANYTHING! Well, maybe not “anything”, but a hell of a lot of stuff, that’s for sure. Beyond just peanut butter sandwiches or peanut butter and jelly, you can put it on raw veggies, crackers, cheese curls, corn chips, regular potato chips, toaster pastries, pretzels, fruit, chocolate bars (of course), marshmallows, even weird stuff like popcorn, cereal, or whatever.
But do you know what I’m really in the mood for? Ice cream. But that won’t be happening anytime soon by the looks of things, so I guess I shouldn’t dwell on it.
As soon as I’m finished eating, I’m heading up to Manny’s office to look for another cigarette lighter. I think he might have one in his desk. Then I’ll venture up to the roof with the radio to see what I can learn.
10:35 p.m.
I was going upstairs to housekeeping when I heard voices in the stairway several floors above me. I’ve crept back down to the basement. I guess all the looters aren’t gone after all. I’ll try again later when hopefully they’re asleep.
September 15th
12:57 a.m.
My sleep cycles are so completely out of whack. It’s like I’m living in Alaska during their long, long winter or I’m some sort of decrepit vampire lurking about my dreary crypt at all hours of the day and night. I need to get to a place where I can at least see the sun.
It feels like I never really get good sleep anymore. Day or night, it’s like I’m just dozing or napping. I thought that working third shift messed up my circadian rhythms, but the apocalypse has put those screwy hours to shame. Nights used to be my time to shine. Now I’m starting to feel sluggish, not just at night but ALL the time. I need an uninterrupted night (or day) in a real bed. Maybe I’ll just b
ite the bullet, ignore the fact that I heard voices in the stairwell earlier tonight, and shack up in one of my pre-supplied guest rooms. I need the change of atmosphere. If I stay quiet and keep the door closed and locked, hopefully it won’t be a problem.
I’m going to kill a little more time here and then try to quietly slip upstairs.
7:43 a.m.
DAMN! Of course, I fell asleep. Of all the times my body chooses to catch up on its rest! It’s so damn dark and cozy down here with all the candles. And it’s cool, like a cave, so it’s great for sleeping. I guess I can make all the excuses I want, but the fact remains that I blew it on making it upstairs during the darkness of night. And I really don’t want to chance having to do it during the day, so that means I’m stuck here for another 12 hours or so at least. But I refuse to let my day remain completely pointless.
While I’ve been stuck in my hiding holes, I’ve been fiddling (carefully) with the gun I found. While I don’t like doing it, and it scares the heck out of me considering I don’t really know what I’m doing, I’m starting to learn things about the weapon. I’ve learned where the bullets go, where the switch is to make it able to fire or not fire, how to cock it, and I’ve even tried firing it (without bullets in it). But I haven’t actually fired it for REAL yet. So that’s what I want to do after breakfast.
The Dystopian Diaries Page 22