Corona Daily 473: Hotels with Heart

Out of long habit, John was about to say ‘cigarette please’ before he saw all of them were in uniform. The lady handed over a mask and the policemen asked him to wear it. Then some liquid was poured on his palms. ‘Rub it and come with us, mate’, said the police.

This was a particularly bad month. Australian beggars were going out of business. John was struggling to get his daily needs. And now they had come to take him to jail. But neither homelessness nor begging was a crime in Perth. And John was given a mask, not handcuffs.

The police van stopped outside a tall building named ‘Pan Pacific Perth’. The team entered the lobby of the luxury hotel with John. After noting down his full name and other details, the receptionist handed him a plastic key. ‘Sir, this boy will show you to your room.’ The policemen said ‘good luck’ and ‘behave yourself’ to him.

‘What’s this whole thing about?’ John growled. Nobody had ever called him sir.

‘Sir, this is a govt initiative. Called ‘hotels with heart’. The homeless in Perth are given rooms in our five-star hotel.’ The bellboy in a mask quickly showed the room and disappeared.

John’s room had a scenic view of the Swan River. Without looking at it, John grabbed the green apple from the centre table. Finishing it in seconds, he put the remaining apples in his dirty rucksack. When he climbed into bed, he sank in. He struggled to get out. The bed was horrible; he would sleep on the floor.

From the rucksack, he took out his collection of cigarettes. Each cigarette he smoked tasted different. He sat on the floor, and began smoking. Suddenly a high pitched siren rang. This was followed by two people storming into his room.

‘It’s the fire alarm. You can’t smoke, sir. Smoking not allowed.’ John quickly put the stub off. The siren and the room invasion had terrified him.

He went to the fridge. It was empty. The room was getting cold, and dark. John tried several switches, but nothing worked. (The bellboy hadn’t bothered to tell him that the plastic key needed to be inserted in a slot for any switches to work).

John checked all the drawers. Except a copy of the Holy bible, there was nothing. He looked at the small bottles in the bathroom. Didn’t seem like he could drink any of them. He put them in the rucksack anyway. Hurriedly, he left the room, walked the staircase down. Fortunately, the man at the reception was busy on the phone.

John ran out, and kept running, until he reached one of his favorite spots near Saint Mary’s Cathedral. The weather was wonderful, a clear blue sky above him. He was happy to have escaped that awful place. He rummaged through the bag, and found the syringe. This was his time to inject himself. Then he lay down on the pavement.

The drug began its effect. John was finally at home.

*****

P.s. This is not a piece of fiction. This article from The Economist (12 April 2020) will tell you about the homeless people accommodated in hotels in different countries.

Ravi