Post Secret in a Hotel Lobby

When my dad was in town, he stayed at a place downtown called the Ace Hotel. Old place scrubbed up, funky rooms, maps for wallpaper, that kind of thing. In their lobby (I suppose in their mezzanine, really) they have a huge, old, wooden, I dunno, filing-cabinet-bureau thing—it must have 100 little drawers in it. There's a bunch of pencils and pads of paper on the desk in front of it, and each drawer is stuffed with little notes. Some funny, some sad; some, "We had a great time in Portland," some, "I'm here cheating on my wife with my best friend's border collie."

We must have spent an hour looking through all the drawers, passing the notes back and forth for a laugh or a grimace, and just imagining all the different lives that had passed through that hotel. I didn't leave one: I figured as a resident I can go back and leave something if this blog ever stops fulfilling my void-hollering needs. I wonder if he did.

Anyway, I took pictures of some of the more memorable ones that passed through my hands.