Sunday, March 1, 2009

Tales of Slack: Chapter 22

"The Shadow Hotel San Wa"
Naha City, Okinawa, Japan. July 2002.





“I can’t figure out these damn AC controls.” It looked like a little pocket electronic game bolted to the wall. I eventually gave up and slumped on the bed. The pillows were stuffed with plastic beads like a buckwheat pillow. A synthetic buckwheat pillow that apparently was designed for robots to sleep on.

Yurimi was sitting in the raised doorway of the closet-like bathroom. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah. . .at least it’s stuck on cold.”

Outside the window, the approaching typhoon had the skies asphalt gray and the tangle of power lines swinging. The roof tops of Naha City’s black market district made a jumbled skyline. I looked at my watch for the 100th time in 15 minutes.

“When’s Ackley getting here?”

“He said he was on his way.”

Still looking at my watch, I tried to do the math to figure out what time it was in the States. The phone rang. Yurimi answered it. “Hey. . .Are you here?” A confused look went across her face as she apparently listened to who ever was on the other end. “What? No way. Check and see if there’s another! Ok.” And she hung up.

“What?” I asked.

“He said he was here at the Hotel San Wa.”

“Yeah. But?”

“But he said he was down by the big fountain in the lobby.”

“But. . .but there isn’t a fountain in the lobby. . .I wouldn't even call that a lobby!”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Apparently there is two Hotel San Was in Naha City.”

“What’s the chances?” I shook my head. “How much time we have before the typhoon hits?”

“Who knows. I think the typhoon is the red spikey thing.” Yurimi said thumbing towards the TV with its sound turned off showing the weather in Japanese.

“Let’s go out and wait for Ackley on the street.” She said standing up.

“Yeah, let’s.” I felt the front pocket of my shorts to see if I still had the wad of 35,000 Japanese Yen. I did. It was only about $350, but we were going to need it.

As we left the hotel room, I noticed that the outside of the door was completely coated in condensation from the cold room inside the humid hallway. A pool of water was at the base of the door soaking the thin carpet. “Man, it’s freaking humid.” I said sliding the door shut and locking it. I could feel sweat immediately starting to build on my back and forehead. I stuck the room key in my Hawaiian-style shirt that had green bamboo on it. Years later I almost didn't throw the shirt away because it reminded me of Naha City, but I never wore it anymore, so I chucked it.

We walked down the steep steps of the stairway and out the "micro lobby" of the hotel. The air in the tight alley was motionless as the sky above swirled with angry gray clouds. The outdoor black market appeared to be collectively deciding to shut down for the typhoon, albeit reluctantly. Stall keepers were moving in slow motion, looking about, just in case a last minute customer were to show up. The two of us walked along the edge of the entrance of the vast black market of Naha City, and turned out towards the main roads. An alley cat with a crooked tail ambled beside us in the gutter. As we waited on the corner, the cat continued to amble on into the street and was smacked by a passing scooter. It rolled nonchalantly, got back up, and continued its journey into another alley.

“Did you see that!” I said watching the gray cat disappear in the afternoon shadows.

“No, what?” She pointed down the street, “Hey, there’s Ackley.”

Ackley pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window, “Hey, what’s up?” He glanced back and forth and then conspiratorially asked, “Did you know you’re staying in the shadow Hotel San Wa?”

“Is it Yakuza?” Yurimi asked narrowing her eyes.

Ackley shook his head, “No, something worse. . .Get in.”

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