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Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas :: Thompson Hunter S.
Страница: 60 из 255His Agnew - style wife was standing about three feet off to his right while he argued with thedesk clerk: “Look, fella - I told you I have a postcard here that says I have reservations in this hotel. Hell, I’m with the District Attorneys’ Conference! I’ve already paid for my room.”
“Sorry, sir. You’re on the ‘late list.’ Your reservations were transferred to the… ah… Moonlight Motel, which is out on Paradise Boulevard and actually a very fine place of lodging and only sixteen blocks from here, with its own pool and…
“You dirty little faggot! Call the manager! I’m tired of listening to this dogshit!”
The manager appeared and offered to call a cab. This was obviously the second or maybe even the third act in a cruel drama that had begun long before I showed up. The police chief’s wife was crying; the gaggle of friends that he’d mustered for support were too embarrassed to back him up - even now, in this showdown at the desk, with this angry little cop firing his best and final shot. They knew he was beaten; he was going against the RULES, and the people hired to enforce those rules said “no vacancy.
After ten minutes of standing in line behind this noisy little asshole and his friends, I felt the bile rising. Where did this cop - of all people - get the nerve to argue with anybody in terms of Right Reason? I had been there with these fuzzy shitheads - and so, I sensed, had the desk clerk. He had airof a man who’d been fucked around, in his time, by a good cross - section of mean - tempered rule - crazy now he was just giving their argument back to them: It didn’t matter who’s right or wrong, man… or who’s paid who hasn’t… what matters right now is that for at time in my life I can work out on a pig: “Fuck you, I’m in charge here, and I’m telling you we don’t have for you.”
I was enjoying this whipsong, but after a while I felt dizzy, nervous, and my impatience got the better of my amusement. So I stepped around the Pig and spoke directly to the desk clerk - “Say,” I said, “I hate to interrupt, but I have a reservation and I wonder if maybe I could just sort of slide through and get out of your way.” I smiled, letting him know I’d been digging his snake - bully act on the cop party that was now standing there, psychologically off - balance and staring at me like I was some kind of water - rat crawling up to the desk.
I looked pretty bad: wearing old Levis and white Chuck Taylor All - Star basketball sneakers… and my ten - peso Acapulco shirt had long since come apart at the shoulder seams from all that road - wind.
“Sorry, sir. You’re on the ‘late list.’ Your reservations were transferred to the… ah… Moonlight Motel, which is out on Paradise Boulevard and actually a very fine place of lodging and only sixteen blocks from here, with its own pool and…
“You dirty little faggot! Call the manager! I’m tired of listening to this dogshit!”
The manager appeared and offered to call a cab. This was obviously the second or maybe even the third act in a cruel drama that had begun long before I showed up. The police chief’s wife was crying; the gaggle of friends that he’d mustered for support were too embarrassed to back him up - even now, in this showdown at the desk, with this angry little cop firing his best and final shot. They knew he was beaten; he was going against the RULES, and the people hired to enforce those rules said “no vacancy.
After ten minutes of standing in line behind this noisy little asshole and his friends, I felt the bile rising. Where did this cop - of all people - get the nerve to argue with anybody in terms of Right Reason? I had been there with these fuzzy shitheads - and so, I sensed, had the desk clerk. He had airof a man who’d been fucked around, in his time, by a good cross - section of mean - tempered rule - crazy now he was just giving their argument back to them: It didn’t matter who’s right or wrong, man… or who’s paid who hasn’t… what matters right now is that for at time in my life I can work out on a pig: “Fuck you, I’m in charge here, and I’m telling you we don’t have for you.”
I was enjoying this whipsong, but after a while I felt dizzy, nervous, and my impatience got the better of my amusement. So I stepped around the Pig and spoke directly to the desk clerk - “Say,” I said, “I hate to interrupt, but I have a reservation and I wonder if maybe I could just sort of slide through and get out of your way.” I smiled, letting him know I’d been digging his snake - bully act on the cop party that was now standing there, psychologically off - balance and staring at me like I was some kind of water - rat crawling up to the desk.
I looked pretty bad: wearing old Levis and white Chuck Taylor All - Star basketball sneakers… and my ten - peso Acapulco shirt had long since come apart at the shoulder seams from all that road - wind.