I’d been in Las Vegas for 2 days and nights, rooming with a guy from grad school and hanging out with 2 other friends. We had been out late, and busy during the day. I had found a guidebook almost immediately upon landing in Vegas, and formed lists of things to do and see for my first visit. One thing that hadn’t made the list was the indulgence in alcohol. I’m not a big drinker and will quickly grow tipsy. I don’t like losing control, and will switch to water to dull the drunken effects when I start feeling silly and slow.But Las Vegas seductively offered pretty drinks that were tasty and soothing in the heat outside. And sometimes they were free! So I drank more than I normally would have, giggling with M, one of my favorite friends from grad school.
Exhausted after too many hours of seeing the animals, shows and touring casinos, I retired with Dave, hiking across the Tropicana property to our hotel room. Dave, M and I had debated hotel choices extensively, finally choosing based on location and price. None of us had stayed there before and we reasoned that the accomodations weren't overly important. To be fair, other than the overwhelming smell of cigar that permeated even the air outside the casino, the hotel was perfectly fine.
We talked sleepily across the space between our 2 beds, and I remember laughing until I drifted into dreams of bright lights, huge buildings and masses of people. Something disrupted my intoxicated dreams though. Visions of huge golden lions, enormous onyx pyramids, and gigantic aquariums gave way to wakefulness, and I blinked in the brightness of the room. It was morning, I decided. The sun was washing the room in bright white light where the green glow of the MGM illuminated it at night. A glance at the clock, turned conveniently to face my bed, assured me that it was early.
Already drifting back into sleep, I made the mistake of running my tongue over my teeth. Immediately disgusted, I patted the nightstand until I found my glasses. Perching them on my nose, I shuffled slowly toward the bathroom. Picking up my clear travel bag from the edge of the counter, I walked on the cold tile floor to the sink. Brushing my teeth thoroughly, I started to sway – from the lingering effects of strawberry daiquiris, probably. Finished, I stared at myself in the mirror, conducting a lengthy internal debate over putting my contacts in.
Deciding to leave them out, I headed for the door of the bathroom. Why had I awakened? I frowned, unable to remember. Oh! I wanted to brush my teeth! Silly – I thought – walking briskly back to the sink and putting more toothpaste on my wet toothbrush. Beginning to scrub again, I decided I was tired, so I walked across the room to flip the lid closed, then sat down on the toilet, crossing my legs and continuing to brush my teeth.
Had I already done this? I wondered, feeling as if this was all familiar. Recounting my steps so far, I remembered entering the bathroom, brushing my teeth, thinking about contacts, almost leaving, then brushing my teeth again. I giggled at myself, absurdly amused and sure that I was still a bit drunk.
I was startled by a loud banging. Was someone knocking at our door? I wondered, abruptly thrust from giggles into gasps of alarm. My hand over my heart, I scurried to the sink, rinsed my mouth and went to the bathroom door. I listened out, wondering about Dave’s ability to protect me should the need arise.
He’s pretty big, though I haven’t heard stories about him ever fighting. He’s funny, sweet and smart, but probably not the toughest of men. Hell.
It took me a moment to decide that someone was knocking somewhere down the hall. Feeling safer, I opened the door and poked my head out. I looked left, seeing Dave still sleeping soundly. Scowling over his lack of awareness, I walked to the door. Opening it seemed risky, but I was brave enough to rise up on my tip-toes and use the peep hole. I couldn’t see anything, regardless of how I oriented my head.
Then the shouting started, and my fear propelled me away from the peep hole. I found myself with my head against the inside of locked bathroom door, trying to listen while remaining safe.
“OPEN THE DOOR!” My eyes got big.
The pounding continued until I heard a crash. Did he get in the room he wanted? Increasingly afraid, I sat back down on the toilet lid and listened, hugging myself and shivering a bit.
“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME? WHY? WHY?” He continued to shout, speaking in bursts as if he was catching his breath. Was he hitting someone? Talking to himself? It's all the alchohol here! People are different than they normally would be.
I then heard a loud thump – someone getting thrown against a wall, I decided. Then a woman started to scream. She was pleading with him to stop, to calm down, to stop and listen.
On my feet, hand over my mouth, I headed toward the door. Do something! I screamed at myself. Don’t just hide! He could hurt her!
I walked out of the bathroom, but couldn’t make myself open the door to the room. Taking 3 quick steps, I decided Dave was still sleeping. Gasping with indecision, I ran back to the door to look outside. Again, I didn’t see anyone. But I continued to hear his shouted demands for an explanation and her screaming pleas.
I ran back and shook Dave, sitting on the edge of his bed. He blinked up at me immediately, and I asked if he’d heard. He nodded and patted the hand I'd placed on his shoulder.
“Do you want me to go out there?” He asked.
“No! But what should we do? What if he’s hurting her and we did nothing?” I asked, growing frantic with the knowledge that my inaction could be enabling harm to come to some woman. I’d decided she was cheating on the shouting man - someone had told him and he had come to confront the adulterous couple - but she didn’t deserve physical violence.
I noticed the phone located by Dave’s bed. I quickly picked up the receiver and dialed the front desk, requesting security after explaining the situation and apologizing for the call. I wasn’t sure it was necessary, but wanted to err on the side of caution, I told the man on the other end. He assured me that others had called and help would be there shortly. After warning me to stay in my room, he hung up and I walked quickly back to the door and the now-familiar peep hole.
Dave’s eyes had closed during my phone call and he was deeply asleep by the time I reached the door. This time I saw people – shirtless men lining the hall – and couldn’t hear further noise. Someone had intervened, I decided, someone braver than I had been. Grateful that someone had stepped in to help, I also felt guilty that it took me so long to take any action at all.
Security came and took the man away in handcuffs amidst the pleas from the crying woman. She went with them in the elevator, and the men outside returned to their respective rooms.
I walked to my suitcase, pushed aside flip flops and dress shoes, and finally found a book. Taking it and my guidebook back to bed, I glanced over at Dave to see that he’d rolled toward the window and snuffled as he found a comfortable position. I arranged the pillows so I could read comfortably, but wasn’t able to focus.
I kept getting stuck on how I hadn’t taken action. My instinct was to hide – retreating behind the bathroom door, waking Dave, peering out the peep hole. Granted, I was impaired – sleepy, drunk, and overwhelmed by the Las Vegas experience. Perhaps if I were more awake? Fully conscious and in control of my internal resources?Not so much… There's one more story to make my point.
1 comment:
Ah, but you *did* take action--you called for security. As someone who used to work in a hotel, that was *absolutely* the right thing to do. You didn't know what the situation was, and by intruding, you could easily have made it a lot worse (man already furious feels threatened by intrusion of other person, pulls weapon, things get ugly.) Instead, you called in the people who have been trained to handle just this kind of situation, and to do so while minimizing escalation of danger/violence. (This is especially true in Vegas, where I think they recruit their security staff exclusively from the ranks of the CIA and Mossad.)
Bottom line: You did the *absolutely* right thing, period. This wasn't a situation for bravery (that would have been in a situation where there was no security to call), but for decisive intelligence, and you showed it. Don't feel bad; feel good. Well, as good as one can feel after witnessing such a thing. Sorry that that had to happen during your trip.
Post a Comment