They finished tossing the room, it didn't take long as it wasn't very big, it was mostly bed, which I noticed they didn't look under. My mom always made us look under the bed before we checked out of a room when we were on vacation. She also checked every drawer. Mom could have taught these guys how to do this right. Mom might be getting a phone call from me very shortly. "Look officers...this is not my room. Check at the desk. It's some Swedish woman's. I told them this using my patient voice. It didn't change things. I was on my feet and Smith or was it Jones, I've always had a problem remembering names, looked at me, laughed a most unpleasant laugh, and told me, "Right."
The black agent, I hadn't heard his name yet, told the other two, "Take him to the car. I want to get this done an over with so I can watch the game for a change."
Smith said, "Yeah. Even though the 'Skins suck as usual."
They jabbered away about football as the elbow rushed me down the hallway. The cleaning lady watched for a few seconds and then disappeared back into the room she was doing, probably worried about getting her papers checked or the little scene I was playing a part in reminded her of home. Hell, I was getting that banana republic feeling but thank god this was America.
The trip through the lobby was fun. Lot's of tourists milling about for some reason. Of course someone took my picture with their cell phone. Damn, I was going to be some asshole from Iowa's Facebook post by nightfall.
Jones opened the door, the car was a Dodge Charger I think, the Feds always have money, and he pushed my head down so I wouldn't bang it getting in. I had seen that on TV and it always seemed like a nice gesture. It didn't feel that way in real life.