The drunks make the night shift interesting. After midnight, the business travelers are either in their beds or typing that last furious email to the home office. The families have long since collapsed into the exhausted stupor that follows a full day of “Are we there yet?”. Even the sounds of the highway outside are shushed by the low hum of the lobby air conditioner. If it weren’t for the drunks, I’d probably put my head down on the desk and try to catch some z’s myself. But the drunks make it interesting.

Because, like Tolstoy’s unhappy families, every drunk is drunk in their own way. I like to play a guessing game with the angry ones. Who are they pissed at? Who are they really pissed at? What will they do before I have to call the police? And will they be drunk enough to stick around until the cops arrive?

The merry drunks are completely unpredictable, but always in an amusing way. I’ve joined in on boisterous off-key renditions of college fight songs. I’ve watched two fifty-something men play hide and seek around the lobby furniture. One evening I even helped a guest haul fifty pounds of peanut butter down to his room while listening to him expound on the merits of apple jelly instead of strawberry jam. The only problem merry drunks have ever given me is when they pass out before making it those last few feet to their room.

But for a guy like me, the amorous drunks are what make the night shift worth its weight in gold. We’re just a medium-sized motel that caters to travelers, so we rarely get any planned romantic evenings. However, we are close enough to two bars to get the ‘romantic for tonight’ traffic after the alcohol has long since chased prudence away.

That was a preview of Sights on the Night Shift. To read the rest purchase the book.

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