Drunk Jesus

Mom, my sister and I took a short Girls Vacation that included a night at a Ramada Inn in Richmond, Virginia. We booked the Ramada in advance with no knowledge of the city, so we didn't know it was located in a seedy part of town. We huddled in our beds as we listened to a domestic disturbance through the wall. We called management and hoped Hostile Man wouldn't come after us next. After some time, a door slammed and there was silence. After nerves calmed, I fell asleep.

"Shannon! Shannon!" My sister, with whom I am sharing a queen bed, is jabbing me in the ribs. It's a flashback to 1977. I hated sharing a bed with her then, and I hated it now. "There's someone at the window!"

"No there isn't. Go to sleep."

"No, I see a shadow! Don't you see someone lurking at the window?!?"

"Shut up. Leave me alone."

Mom pipes up, from her bed, "What's going on, you two?"

My sister sits up. "I am telling you, there's someone out there!"

I open one eye, ready to punch her face, and then I saw it.  A shadow at the window. I bolted up. Two grown sisters sitting up in bed, staring at a shadow.

Mom asks, "Do you think it's the wife beater from next door?" God, I hope not.

We all fixate on the curtain in silence. Then the shadow disappears. We hear a key card in the lock. Someone quietly tries the handle. We stare at the door, hearts pounding. We hear it again. I launch out of bed and scamper to the peephole. Through it, I spy a young man, clearly drunk, staring at his key card. He steps back from the door, looks at both sides of the card, and makes one last perplexed attempt at our door.

Relieved, I report, "I don't think it's the wife beater. It seems like a drunk and harmless guy. It's clear he forgot which room is his."

Mom wants more info. "What does he look like?"

I flatten my face against the door for another look. The bearded man, in sandals, is wandering away. "I don't know. I guess he looks like Jesus in a USA t-shirt."

Mom instructs me, "Well DON'T let him in!" (As if I would.)

My sister and I tease, "WHAT? Don't let JESUS in? Blasphemy!"

Mom defends her position: "No! If it really was Jesus, he wouldn't need a key."