Never let it be said I work in a boring hotel.
I love it because of that. Two blocks east is the Arch. Two blocks west is the stadium. We’re a huge draw for tourists, baseball fans, and business travelers.
And apparently drug-deal-gone-bad druggies.
There I was, cheerily welcoming back my favorite guest. (You know, the one who treated me with baseball tickets. Twice?) I had just finished checking her in, and we were chit chattin’ away when suddenly we heard loud pops. The thought crossed my mind they were gun shots. I looked out, saw smoke, heard a car squeal away, and knew for sure they were gun shots.
I frantically called 911. We locked the hotel down, and every manager in the hotel got to work protecting our guests.
For a while, we had no idea who the shooter was or where he went. Later, on the news, we heard the drug-deal-gone-bad began a few miles south of downtown. And when the “thieves” got to the stoplight in front of our hotel, they were shot. Two of the guys were dead on the scene, one was shot in the leg and later jumped off the gurney to make a break for it, and the other two managed to stash their loot in a port-a-potty before hightailing it out of there. All witnessed by guests and employees of our humble establishment.
In the midst of it all, we continued to check in our guests, most unaware of what really happened out front. With the Cardinals back home for game three of the NLDS, we had over 200 reservations arriving. Not easy to do when your heart is pounding and you’re concerned for your safety.
Luckily it wasn’t long before the crime scene tape was rolled back up, and the streets were open again to traffic and pedestrians. A testament to how often these things happen? Well, at least it’s unusual in our neck of the city.
While I like the excitement our hotel brings, I can totally do without the blood.