A controversial expose that makes you think, react and say, "Why would anyone be content with this lifestyle?"
It begins with a disturbing premise, and culminates in an unusual twist you have to read to believe! Foreword: Since the mid 1980s, much attention has been focused on individuals who spend their lives rooted in drugs, poverty and other facets of unconditional gloom. Hence through a series of unexpected events, I had the opportunity as a writer to live among such people for 7 weeks. And what I observed, left me shaken to the point, where I'm convinced that there are certain segments of the population who enjoy living a lifestyle of extreme despondency.
For years I toyed with the idea of what it would be like to go undercover at a cheap motel, where customers end up becoming tenants, and the atmosphere is littered with desperation. Thus, after much debate, I decided to infiltrate one of those No-Tell Hotels, as described by the writers of old and write about my experience.
The lodging I chose was a seedy motel called *the Echo Delray, located in a prominent business district in Northwest Central Florida. At night, when the motel's name is emblazoned in lights, it looks like the typical lodging one would find for under $40. However unlike other motels of its genre, the Echo Delray has a story to tell. Or should I say, hundreds of stories?
So how should I proceed with this commentary? Shall I start in the middle and leave out the disturbing details, or start at the beginning and tell the story as I experienced it? Yes, that is what I will do. I will start at *Mason Calvrick Boulevard, and the little motel of ill repute, and from there we will meet in the middle.
So, without further delay, I present: The Echo Delray:
Haven of Drugs, Disarray and Discontent.
Picture this scenario: A dilapidated motel, embodying 23 rooms and a smattering of tenants, stands virtually unnoticed in a prominent business district surrounded by garbage and overgrown shrubs. Entering the drab pigsty, you're overwhelmed by the stench of drugs and desperation emanating from the stairwells.
Turning a corner, you walk gingerly amid beer cans and cigarette butts littering the parking lot. Nauseated and disgusted more surprises are in store. As you head for the exit, you pass an abandoned dwelling and watch a man and woman smoking crack. Oblivious to my stares, they smile wearily and continue their illicit activity.
Forging ahead, I watch two women hurl profanities at each other, as accusations of crack whore fill the air.
One woman screams, "Witch, I don't smoke as much crack as you do." To which her adversary replies, " Screw you" and walks away with two males in tow; one Black, one White.
Overhearing the argument, I wonder if the women who appeared to be in their early 20s were proud of their behavior. Perhaps, they feel that cursing and smoking crack are the only things they have to offer. If this is true, how sad!
Pausing briefly, I listen to the sound of loud music blaring from an older model Cadillac. Listening to the bawdy lyrics, it soon becomes clear that the driver doesn't care if the music offends tenants who aren't fond of profanity-laced hip hop.
As I observed more of the tenant's behavior over the seven weeks, three things became clear: A) The residents love to curse one another; B) They enjoy congregating in a remote corner of the motel, where they satisfy their drug habit, without giving the slightest concern to their health or future survival; C) They love to associate with individuals who don't want nothing, don't know nothing and don't care about nothing. Welcome to the Echo Delray! From morning to night, residents sit outside in chairs that resemble rejects from a salvage yard. It is here, that they observe everyone who enters and leaves the motel.
Seriously, from the moment you step out of your car; every eye is poised on you, in an attempt to determine if you are an outsider, or someone who fits in easily with the occupants catastrophic lifestyle. Not surprisingly, after living at the motel for only three days, I discovered that their primary reason for sitting outside was to practice their cursing routine.
One day as I was leaving the motel to go shopping, I noticed the usual tenants sitting in their chairs.
Deliberately avoiding eye contact, I noticed that they were talking quietly among themselves, with no utterance of profanity, a rare occurrence.
Thinking aloud, I berated myself for judging these people too harshly. However, within seconds I was forced back into reality, when a young man in a battered truck pulled into the parking lot, and three of the women launched into a cursing tirade, that would have made even the most hard core comedian turn red with embarrassment.
As each woman accused the man of sleeping with other people, I thought my presence would deter the profanity, but when I made eye contact with one of the women, her voice grew louder.
Why?
According to experts, some people seek attention to the point where they will do anything to get it. So, I guess when residents of the Echo Delray engage in their daily cursing marathon, they are getting the kind of attention that eludes them outside of the motel.
Meet the Tenants Before any one accuse me of lumping everyone into the same category, let me point out that not all of the tenants were rowdy or used drugs. Quite the contrary, there were people who went to work and kept to themselves, literally. On the other hand, there were tenants whose antics were so bizarre, you couldn't help noticing. Case in point: The woman in the adjoining room, whose routine consisted of calling her husband's mistress several times a day and berating the woman for stealing her husband. Afterwards, she would burst into a country song, which continued for hours on end.
Drowning her sorrows in country music, I listened to her for weeks, finally getting relief when her husband decided to give her an unexpected surprise by leaving his mistress and returning to his wife. How do I know this?
Because the walls of the Echo Delray are unusually thin, and even when I turned up the volume on the TV, in an attempt to drown out what she was saying, I couldn't because she talked so loud. Can anyone say Potential Psychopath in training?
Oh by the way, our resident- singer returned three weeks later. And yes, she got her old room back. Moreover, she resumed her daily ritual of calling the other woman.
Noting the weirdness of the situation, I wonder why the mistress even bothers to pick up the phone, since a glance at the caller ID can easily reveal her nemesis' number. Perhaps, the mistress is just as twisted as the wife, since it's apparent they enjoy their phone altercations.
Hoot Nanny Nancy Among the people I encountered at the Echo Delray, none stood out more than the young woman, I have chosen to identify as Nancy, not her real name.
Nancy is the stereotypical trailer park White female featured on The Jerry Springer Show. She is loud, over-weight, has 4 children, another one on the way, curses at the drop of a hat and has no respect for herself or anyone else. In addition, she loves to spout the N-word, although she lives with a Black man she refers to as her "husband," but who is in all likelihood her boyfriend.
In the 7 weeks I lived at the Echo Delray, she was involved in every altercation (verbal and physical) that took place. Hence, in observing Nancy, who not only lives at the motel, but is employed as one of the housekeepers, I wanted to know what made her tick. So, I decided the next time she knocked on my door, asking if I needed towels, etc, I would invite her in, on the pretense that the sheets needed changing.
As I anticipated, Nancy loves to talk, and will tell her life story to any one, even a total stranger. She was in the room for only a minute, when she announced that she was pregnant. Stunned that she would reveal such private information to me, a stranger, nevertheless, I congratulated her.
Over the next three minutes Nancy informed me that:
*She vehemently opposes abortion * She had her first child at 15
* Currently she is on probation * She has lived in motels all her adult life.
* All her children, 4 in all, are in foster care and she has no inclination to get them back.
* Although pregnant, she was not happy, and admitted that it was her "husband" who wanted another child.
After she left, I was convinced that Nancy craves attention, thus that explains while she likes to curse in front of everyone and use the N-word, even when African-Americans are in earshot. What she doesn't realize is that one day she is going to meet her match, and someone is going to either kill her or beat her to the point where she thought she was dead.
A word of advice to you Nancy, instead of showing the world how tough you are, why not get an education and do something with your life. Because, at the rate you're going, it's going to be a short life indeed. How's that's for a dose of reality, Nano?
Calling All Cops One characteristic that typically plagues places like the Echo Delray is the influx of criminal activity. In the
7 weeks I was there, I saw the police 12 times. In one case, a man was taken to the hospital after consuming a bad batch of marijuana. Not surprisingly, no arrests were made, which I found strange, since I overheard several tenants boasting about being on probation and serving time in jail. Ah the Echo Delray! And speaking of the police, I thought it was strange that one cop was so friendly with the tenants, he even joked to Nancy about wearing a wire to catch the resident drug dealer, which she declined. Heck, if you see hordes of people coming in and out of one particular room morning, noon and night, looking like stir-fried manure, you can safely assume that's where the drug dealer lives. Now if I can figure that out, why can't the police? Perhaps, they already know, but because the motel is synonymous with crime and poverty, they just look the other way. Ah the Echo Delray! In defense of the owner of the motel, *Mr. Padinsky, he does his best to keep the Echo Delray clean. I watched as he emptied garbage cans, and tried to keep maintenance problems to a minimal. Likewise, he serves as the motel's peacekeeper; by getting out of bed at 4 in the morning to break up fights, and telling the resident trouble- maker Nancy to go home. So, how do the tenants thank him?
By cursing in his presence and doing as they damn well please.
Inside The Echo Delray According to records, the motel was built in 1952; and when you first enter one of the 23 rooms, your initial reaction is shock followed by disbelief. The rust-colored carpet was filthy and covered with stains I could only imagine from where they originated. Likewise, the white walls were encrusted with rust. Moreover, the brown drawers were a throwback to the early 60s, and were hanging by a thread.
Looking at the rest of the room, I noticed the tape on the door, which convinced me that someone probably kicked it in, and the owner, knowing he could not afford another door, simply placed masking tape around it to keep it in place. If the living quarters were a mess, I could only guess what was behind the bathroom door.
Opening the door, which like the walls are covered with rust, my eyes caught site of the bathtub, which looked as though it had not been cleaned since Lyndon Johnson occupied the White House. Pausing, I wonder how Mr. Padinsky expected any one to take a bath or shower in that disgusting relic. Surprisingly, the toilet was in relatively good shape as was the sink, and they were both clean.
Thinking this might not be a bad assignment after all, I watched as a giant cock roach scampered across the floor, its gangly legs hugging the casement. Honestly, this bug was so big, I swore I saw a gun protruding from his belly.
Lastly, when I checked into my room, it was 98 degrees, and the huge contraption in the back of the room masquerading as a heater/air conditioner, only blew out hot air, forcing me to purchase a fan from a department store
20 minutes from the motel. Ah the Echo Delray! It's Hard to Say Goodbye In recalling the motel, I feel that if given the opportunity to renovate the interior and exterior, it could bring in a more affluent clientele. But what about the people who've lived there for years and call the Echo Delray home? What about Nancy? Besides the Echo Delray, where else can she go to curse, fight and use the N-word at her leisure? And what about the lone drug dealer? If he left the Echo Delray, could he recruit new clients who share his penchant for disaster? Unfortunately, the answer is a resounding yes.
Finally, what about the people for whom drugs and poverty is simply a way of life? Would they be willing to transform their lives into one motivated by success? Before leaving, I posed that question to an arm twitching tenant, who spends her days prostituting and begging for money during the night.
Staring at her feet, she whispered matter-of-factly, "This is all I know." She continued, "I've been living this way so long, if someone offered me a million dollars, I'd turn it down and stay here with my friends." Funny, I get the feeling that 90% of the residents who occupy the motel with the antiquated windows and crumbling blue doors would give the same answer.
And so we end our expose on the same note as it began.
Thus, as the sun sets, creating an aura of tranquility; profanity and screams, interlaced with shrieks of laughter can be heard. Sadly, it's just another night at the Echo Delray.
*Not their real names, or the name or location of the motel.
Disclaimer: All information on this site is provided for informational purposes only! By no means is any
information presented herein intended to substitute for the advice provided to you by any health care or other professional
or organization.
