Last night I stayed at the Salvation Army. I arrived to find an older guy wearing sunglasses arguing with the clerk over a rule at the facility. The clerk had him read some particular rule that he had violated, and it seemed to satisfy the disgruntled patron. He picked up his white cane (the kind that blind people use) and walked out the door. When my turn came, I was told by the guy behind the glass that I could not bring my bike inside. I explained to the guy, who seemed nice enough, that I did not have a lock and chain. He replied that he was unable to accomodate my transportation so I rode a few blocks away and put the bike in a dumpster. Luckily, it was still there in the morning.
I returned and was asked to fill out some paperwork and read a list of rules while the clerk gathered a clean sheet, pillowcase, and towel for me to use. Then, I was shown my room by what appeared to be an elder statesman of the facility. He was obviously homeless and had been for many years. He looks quite a bit like Blue from Old School and I put his age right around 112. We leave the reception area and head through a remotely locked door to the men's side of the place. The women's side is just opposite the men's, across the reception area. The door locks behind us and we head to my room. It feels a bit like we're being held captive by the Salvation Army. No one is allowed to leave their side of the facility once they've checked in unless it's for one of the hourly smoke breaks.
