Hourly hotels

Some face-slapping, some rope, a mirrored ceiling, and a lot of orgasms.

One day, someone will explain to me the logic behind the current epidemic of security theatre around the country. In this episode, my (ridiculous) pseudonym is questioned, and I’m unable to prove that my fake name is MY fake name.

Rose and I check into the Liberty Inn, Room 101, past the bullet-proof glass and the vending machine selling condoms and M&Ms.

A detailed set of instructions for an afternoon together.

A budget midtown hotel where you can rent a room by the hour — and where every detail reminds you that’s exactly what you’re doing.

A seedy, psychedelic hotel in Manhattan, perfect for a couple of hours.

At the Liberty Inn, everyone you pass in the hall knows exactly what you just did — and there’s something liberating about that.

Checking into an hourly hotel is a strange act of mutual acknowledgment.