Hotel California. Uh, I mean Hotel Indigo: LaSheeka

One night she got pissed off (she had a hair-trigger—I loved her for that)

“Why don’t you just get a fucking job?!”

(Screamed at some pan-handler at Hotel Indigo late one night.)

I just walked away, but said to her, “Baby, calm down.”

She replied, “These idiots just piss me off.”

Had to concur.

LaSheeka and I worked Night Shift at Hotel Indigo for probably at least a year.

We became instant ‘Fast Friends.”

Instant Karma.

We ‘understood’ one another and neither one of us ever put up with bullshit.

Because neither one of us gave a fuck.

We just did our respective jobs.

And LaSheeka was never hesitant to tell a drunken refugee “Guest” from Beale Street that he/she was full of shit and needed to just go the fuck to bed. And STFU!

We spent many long nights swapping tales.

I told my stories.

She told hers.

We BONDED.

I MISS HER.

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