A Night in a Cell
Standing alone late at night on a small town plaza clutching two fully loaded bicycles I was eager to get moving. Beer was flowing well, an approximation of music was thumping, and I had just managed to shake of the drunken advances of a hopeful homosexual. A police car pulled up along side me, the rear window opened and a familiar face popped out, ‘what are you doing?’ asked Sebastian. ‘Standing, holding bicycles, fending of amorous poofs, the usual, and you?’ ‘Ohh, just got some help, um, how did you get out?’ ‘I just explained that we had had a long day of hard physical work and were eager to sleep, el patron agreed and opened the door’. Sebastian turned to the three police officers in the car with him, ‘mi amigo es very diplomatico’ he told them, they all nodded and agreed that I was and out Sebastian jumped.
We had arrived in this small town well before dark, which after the past few days battling a relentless head wind made a nice change. The range of hostels was not great. We found one just off of the plaza that seemed tranquil enough. We took a room and headed out for a beer and food. To cut a story short, by the time we returned to our hotel we discovered that the town disco was right beneath our room. It was ridiculous, the noise was deafening, the chance of sleep zero. Taking immediate stock of the situation we agreed that there was only one course of action, run. What we had not reckoned on was the determination with which the old lady running the place would block our path and demand money with menaces, she was rather intimidating.
When with a little help from diplomacy and the stand by of police intervention we did manage to get free. We soon found alternative accommodation. What a contrast, the lady running the place was asleep on a couch in the gloomy corridor. As she showed us the room she whispered in order to avoid
disturbing the gentle slumber of other guests. She showed us to a room, we took it. Ohh dear, what a room. It was quiet, the ventilation was by way of a hole in the roof, and so alarming was the ricketiness of Sebastian’s bed that he slept on the floor. The room did serve as a reminder to be very careful not to break the law in this land. Laying on the bed (or floor) looking at the bleak bolted door one could not help but imagine how dreadful it must be to be imprisoned.