It’s 1993 and I am sixteen. I’m stranded in a hotel room with my parents in Fort Meyers watching some Dateline-ish news program on how a new wave of crime is taking over hotels. The show warns to always, always check the peep hole before opening the door even if you hear the classic shriek of “room service”. People are being robbed and held at gun point, some assaulted and even murdered. I’m a small town girl. I don’t think too much about locking my car door or even the door to the house and I certainly don’t make a habit of checking the peep hole. The States are crazy I think. I am so glad I don’t actually live here.
We have a rental car and all of the driving around Florida is long and boring, except the part where we go through the everglades. I hope to see someone being eaten by a member of the crocodilian family but alas there are wire guards up everywhere. How disappointing, I had such dreams of what the everglades would be like and they are all shit on in an instant and I am back to being bored and sixteen. I listen to my Janet tape over and over again. I fight the urge to sing out loud because I am such a fucking brat I want my parents to get mad at me, but hearing them ask me to turn it down and not sing will just make me want to yell at them. I want to be back in Disney World or at home with my boyfriend. Even though said boyfriend is back in Terrace fucking his cousin. He later married her. My ass hurts and I totally have to pee. It is hot and I just want to be in Daytona already.
It is August; Daytona is busy but not insane. The hotel we are staying in is massive. The halls are so long I can barely see from one end to the other. Our room is close to the elevators which I like because these fucking hallways are creepy. My parents let me stay up in the room while they go down for breakfast. Twelve and under eat free in all the restaurants in this State and I have eaten free in every one. Yet another blow to my non existent self esteem. Today is the first morning of the whole vacation they have let me sleep in. I find it amazing how much time I can spend in direct contact with these people who are my parents yet I am still completely alone. I am an outcast even with my family. I spend some time on the balcony, arguing with the pavement below begging me to jump. There are people in the parking lot and I can tell that they see me even though I am so high up; I can see two of them, men, a few paces behind the group stretching their necks back. Tourists like me I assume.
Being an only child sucks I hate it. I fucking hate how everyone thinks I am so fucking spoiled. I’m not. If people only knew how empty and alone my existence is. I have no friends back home; I have no idea how to make friends with these alien looking creatures my age. I am shy and I have no people skills. Guys really like me. And I need the attention. But I have a boyfriend and I don’t want to cheat on him. (Idiot). I tan by the pool alone; I read my book(s) my magazine(s) alone. I listen to my Janet tape. My parents come and feign interest in my being for maybe an hour, I go for a walk on the beach with my Dad, and I swim in the ocean. The cycle repeats itself. I notice the two guys I saw from the balcony; I don’t think they see me. They have been by the pool for hours in and out of the water, reading, and tanning. I keep seeing the one guy everywhere. I have passed him in the lobby a couple of times but our eyes have never met. I feel too skinny and ugly.
I don’t know where my parents are but I want to go and get some better stuff to read. I head up to the room, maybe they are up there anyway. The elevator opens to take me up, there is not a soul to be seen and I step in. I get off the elevator and look both ways, the halls are empty. I turn right and head towards my room. I find it empty. I talk to myself, dance around a little, sing some racy Janet lyrics and even consider sneaking down to the payphone across the street to call my boyfriend. He is never home when I try to call him. If my parents knew I was running up my calling card they’d be mad. I wouldn’t give a shit though. They hate my boyfriend.
Someone knocks on the door. My parents have a key. The halls were empty. Who the hell is it? “Just a minute”. I head to the door and in an instant the Dateline-ish special flashes through my mind and I curse myself for yelling out but laugh at myself at the same time. It is probably one of my parents. My spidey sense starts to tingle and I tip toe the rest of the way to the door. I hold my breath and peer through the peep hole. HOLY FUCK, it is the guy from the parking lot, from the lobby, from the pool. But the lobby was empty. The elevator was empty. The hallway was empty. My body starts to panic. I tip toe back to the bed, I sit down. I shake. Reason and logic fail me. I am numb. He keeps knocking. He waits for what feels like forever in between his knocks and I sit there frozen my ass glued to the comforter. Calling the front desk crosses my mind but what to say fails me and I can’t move.
Finally I creep towards the door like a mouse, failing even then to realize I have been hunted. I can see him waiting off to the side – see from the vague view the peep hole allows. I dare not breathe and I stand as still as I can. Suddenly I see his shape pass by the front of the door. I have waited him out.
I slowly return to the center of the room. I gather my things. I sit. I wait. Nothing. I open the door a crack and peek out to the right first, then to the left. At the far end of the hall I see him standing under the fire escape sign. He sees me he opens the door and disappears. I sprint to the elevator and return to the pool to work on my tan.
