Don’t Own A Motel In Grand Rapids, Michigan

There are a few things in life that I try to avoid, for the most part at least: poop, switchblades, crack-whores, and turkey sticks. On this venture to Grand Rapids, however, I fell unsuccessful.

Let me begin by saying Grand Rapids is a great place; there’s a lot of…character. If I could count how many times I heard, “Ay brotha, I’m just trying to get a cold beer” I must be able to count pretty fucking high. The people that you interact with are a little out of the loop but for the most part they were good people, an extreme change from Toledo. As much as I disliked the place, there was one thing that Toledo did not offer, fortunately: a motel pool full of shit…like, poop…Thank you, Connor Brodner.


This is the motel’s pool, and those little dark spots are Connor’s shit, in case you weren’t aware. Within the first ten minutes of arriving to America’s Best Inn, apparently drinking beer and relaxing wasn’t enough, someone had to take a boo boo in the pool.

Immediately after witnessing human feces plop into a motel swimming pool, I was a little frazzled, but not enough to dismiss the drunken yells below us of, “DON’T KNOCK ON MY DOOR LIKE DAT NIGGA, I’LL STAB YOU!” and counterattacks sounding a little like, “STAB ME DEN MOTHAFUCKA!” Cool…I’m going to see someone die tonight. But just when I started to accept my fate, it stops, and Stabmedenmothafucka runs upstairs.

This dude was pissed as fuck, and we were completely weirded out, but then he proposed to roll a blunt, so obviously we all became friends. He told us his name was Rodney, and he tried knocking on that door to find his woman. And just as that leaves his mouth, guess who the cat drags in…Kayla: some dried up, drugged out, twenty year old girl; his woman. After constant arguments about various motel-dwelling issues, she offers blowjobs for everyone…No thank you. (If anyone tries saying I was down for it, don’t believe them.)

After three blunts with these people, we are tired and have had enough with Motelians. It is just then when Rodney decides to run to the store, grab another blunt, and spark another. He dips and gets back in a few minutes with what we all thought were ten extra-large Slim Jims… As he gets closer, it is evident that he has racked the most disgusting looking “turkey sticks” that I have ever seen in my life. I couldn’t go.

Before this dude even pulled out the other blunt, Clay got both Rodney and Kayla out of there, finally. It only took four hours, three blunts, and a lifetime of sarcasm. If you do one thing with you’re life…don’t own a motel in Grand Rapids, Michigan.



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