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menu skip to content about writing books stories non-fiction editing perpetual motion machine dark moon digest castle rock radio patreon search for: a history of hotels july 6, 2018 admin , blog max the following essay is an introduction i wrote for the reissued edition of my novel, the nightly disease. purchase a signed copy directly through my webstore (recommended), or indiebound , barnes & noble , and amazon . “a history of hotels” 1983 the steelworker purchases a hotel with two of his coworkers. according to one of the men, there’s no way in hell this won’t make all three of them very wealthy. he frequently approaches the other two with get-rich-quick schemes, and they always, without doubt, fail. the aftermath of a disastrous greyhound sponsorship remains lingering in their memories like the ashes from an arson. abandoned amway products litter each of their residences. what makes this hotel idea any different, no one can quite say, but the steelworker goes along with the plan nonetheless. later, when asked why he agreed, he will say: “i don’t know. that’s a good question.” this choice will trigger a chain of events that will result in the steelworker, almost a decade later, penetrating a woman with his penis and impregnating her with what will eventually evolve into the author of the novel you currently hold in your hands. the hotel is located on the corner of 119th street and atchison avenue in whiting, indiana. it’s called the illiana, a term often used to describe the general area bordering illinois and indiana. the location leaves much to be desired. bikers and drug addicts quickly start favoring the hotel bar as a preferred hangout spot. every guest is a potential meth freak capable of murdering the front desk clerk and running off with whatever’s in the register. space exists in the building for a nice restaurant, but none of the three owners ever take advantage of the opportunity and the room remains empty for the entire six years the building lasts in their possession. the steelworker and his two coworkers continue working at the mill while sharing shifts running the illiana. will the hotel eventually start feeling like a smart business decision? no. it will never feel like that. 1984 the woman who will go on to become this author’s mother walks into the illiana’s bar with her fiancé. the steelworker who will go on to become this author’s father serves them their drinks, and tells the woman he just returned from a trip to jamaica, and he’s curious if she’d like to join him next time he goes. the woman doesn’t respond at first, since she’s positive he’s fucking with her, but the steelworker is sincere. he wants this woman he’s only just met to leave the country with him. “well? what do you say?” says the steelworker. “what the fuck? i don’t even know you,” says the steelworker’s future wife, and her and her fiancé leave the bar. later that night, her fiancé will tell the woman she is forbidden from ever returning to the illiana, and a few months later, the woman will break up with her fiancé and apply for a job at the hotel. in the afternoons she will work at a hot dog stand, and in the evenings she will work the front desk. at home are her two sons, being watched by their grandparents. these dumb little babies have no idea their mother is in the process of getting to know their future stepfather. 1985 the steelworker and the new front desk girl decide to get married. 1989 the three owners of the illiana declare bankruptcy and give up on their dreams of running a hotel. 1993 i am born inside of a hotel. a storm outside prohibits my parents from driving to a hospital. the night auditor on duty is burdened with the responsibility of delivering me into this cold, unforgiving world. he has my mom lay down on the floor in the lobby and he tells her to push, goddammit, push. a line grows at the front desk. people wanting to check-in. guests demanding pillows, blankets, you name it. everybody in the hotel is suddenly inconvenienced by my life. after i am free, the night auditor wraps me in a blanket and kisses my forehead and whispers into my ear: “i pass the curse onto you. i pass the curse onto you.” i’m just kidding. i was born in a hospital somewhere in hobart, indiana. but imagine if that really happened. holy shit. 2003 i am ten years old and going on my first real vacation. orlando, florida. disneyworld. universal studios. islands of adventure. daytona beach. my father stays home. my grandmother on my mother’s side is treating us to this trip: me, my mother, my nephew, my niece, and my half-brother’s half-brother. only my grandmother has a driver’s license. it takes us two days to reach our destination. along the way, we stop at a days inn and i sleep in a bed with my mother and my nephew. the next day we make it to orlando and check in to our new hotel. i don’t remember the name. we are all excited to start the vacation. after we check-in to our room, my grandmother informs us today everybody must attend a meeting with her. “we’re going to a timeshare presentation,” she says, “since they were kind enough to help discount our room.” somehow, she forgot to mention this until right now. it is at this time that i decide i hate my grandmother. i hate her for sneaking this on all of us. i hate her for being a liar. i haven’t yet learned that everybody on this planet is a liar. i haven’t learned that lying is the only way people survive. later, when i am an adult with my own family, i’ll think back to this trip and realize i would have done exactly the same thing if placed in her position. 2006 i am a few months shy of thirteen. the mold in our ceiling has started spreading like an infection. a hole in our living room remains open like the eye of a conspiracy theorist. i rent kiss kiss bang bang and chuck palahniuk’s survivor from the library. i watch the movie and fall asleep. the next morning, i wake to a house without power. this is not a surprise. bills are frequently overdue. sometimes the power is shut off. it usually comes back on after a day or so. there is never a need to worry. i go to school, and when i return home in the afternoon, the power is still off. my mother tells me we are going to stay the night at a hotel, and then tomorrow the electricity issue will be resolved. she has a little over a week of free rooms saved up for the majestic star casino & hotel in gary. casinos don’t mind gifting their best customers room comps. it encourages them to never leave. and, once a week passes and we still haven’t returned home, i begin to wonder if we ever will leave. my father drops me off at school in the mornings then i take the bus home and sit in our house without power and read books and pet my dog and apologize for leaving her alone every night, that i wish she could be with us at the hotel. i read chuck palahniuk’s survivor and richard price’s clockers and i stare at my x-box 360 and wonder how to eject kiss kiss bang bang from the disc tray without power. my father picks me up each day after he finishes his shift at the mill and we return to the hotel and eat mcdonald’s. we are always eating fucking mcdonald’s. the dollar menu is our religion. another week passes and my parents decide to pull me out of school. it’s too much of a hassle for my father to drive from the hotel to my school to his work then back to our house then to the hotel again every day. my mother tells me they will just homeschool me for the last couple weeks of the school year, then enroll me in high school come august. when we run out of free room comps at the casino hotel and my father’s paycheck has dried up, we stay at my grandparents’ house in hammond until payday comes around again. every day after work my father drives to our house and feeds my dog and takes her out for a walk. one evening he pulls up in my grandparents’ driveway and gets out and tells me my bedroom window has been smashed in and the dog is gone. it is my thirteenth birthday. e

URL analysis for talesfromthebooth.com

http://www.talesfromthebooth.com/page/2/
http://www.talesfromthebooth.com/about/
http://www.talesfromthebooth.com/2017/09/14/update-on-the-nightly-disease-spoiler-alert-its-fucking-back/
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http://www.talesfromthebooth.com/tag/birthday/
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http://www.talesfromthebooth.com/non-fiction/
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Domain Name: TALESFROMTHEBOOTH.COM
Registry Domain ID: 1671039533_DOMAIN_COM-VRSN
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Registrar URL: http://www.fastdomain.com
Updated Date: 2018-08-08T17:24:39Z
Creation Date: 2011-08-08T17:24:34Z
Registry Expiry Date: 2019-08-08T17:24:34Z
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