The north end of Lincoln Avenue in Chicago is home to a number of independent ‘no-tell’ motels that were built during the 1940s and 50s. While they may have once hosted road-tripping families, they now exude a palpable air of sleaze, and many of them rent by the hour. I’ve always had a very large place in my heart for all things vintage and if some of those vintage things are somewhat disreputable, all the better. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited when Gopal chose not only a Lincoln Avenue motel, but also one of the more nostalgic ones. Finally I could see what it looked like inside! I set aside my hesitations, both practical and paranoid.
Unfortunately, the call got off to a bad start.
I was fifteen minutes early, but Gopal was fifteen minutes late. While I was now fairly sure he wasn’t a cop, it was pretty cold outside and I always made sure to carry no more cash than I would need for my cab ride when I went on calls. There were enough risks involved with my line of work that I didn’t need to add a potential robbery to the list. Because of this, I was unable to get a room and warm up and was stuck waiting outside with just a miniskirt, thin tights, a tank top, and my trusty leather jacket to keep me warm. I was not pleased.