As I tried explaining to Dumb and Dumber, the hotel security guard with one eye, who could only speak spanish, ran over with his flashlight to see what was going on. After a minute of trying to tell the story in spanish–the subject I almost failed every year of in high school–I realized something. There was a dead end around the corner from my room that the person who was trying to get in my room could have gone towards.
I stuttered to the security guard to check around the corner with his flashlight. He wouldn’t. He didn’t seem to believe any of my story. He tried to tell me that everything was fine. It wasn’t until I started screaming and cursing at him in english that he finally did.
The second he went around the corner, I saw two white tennis shoes light up in the glow of his flashlight. My reaction didn’t quite match his.
“I saw! Did you see him? I saw his shoes! Someone is there,” I cried.
The security guard ran over to me and tried to comfort me by saying no one was there.
“But I just saw his shoes!” I scream.
I turned to the two drunk guys and I instantly saw the look on their faces. They saw the shoes, too. I think they are sobering up.
“Dude, there is someone over there. We saw his shoes, too,” one of them says to the security guard. Again, he denies it.
“You guys, please go look,” I asked both of them panicked and most pitiful. I wasn’t sure why no one had taken action at this point. We were all standing around the corner from an attempted criminal and no one had the cojones to secure any evidence. Not Dumb and Dumber. Not the security guard. Not me.
Just as one of them began to walk over, a person ran out from around the corner with a black mesh bag over their head and a wound up rope in one hand. They had another large black bag in the other hand. With no reaction from the security guard, the guy just ran away. No one chased after him. I was petrified and the others were either incredulous, blind or the same.
“See! Oh my God.” I’m all alone. No one is helping me. No one is on my side. Is everyone in on this? I’m going to die here.
I turn to the two men and ask them, “Please help me.”
Looking back on this now, I don’t know what I would do without these two. At this point, I didn’t know if I could trust them either, but I really had no other choice. I had to have hope that they were safe people to be with.
“Dude, did you just see that? Oh my God, man. She isn’t lying. Oh God, what do we do?” one asked the other.
They walked me to the bar across from where my room was and asked to use the phone to call the owner of the hotel. I was hyperventilating, crying and generally, a stuttering, walking wreck. The four restaurant staff who were there all wore smirks on their faces as all three of us tried to explain what happened and why we needed to use the phone.
“Unfortunately, the owner is back in the United States and does not take any phone calls. Just go back to your rooms. Everything is fine,” one of them told us.
“What on earth do you mean? Please give us a damn phone!” I yelled through my tears.
After 20 minutes of arguing, they weren’t giving us a phone. And they all still had smirks on their faces. What is that about?
The two men decided that the best idea would be for me to stay in their room until morning. If they were two guys in any other situation, I would have declined but I honestly felt I had no other option. The only other option was to go back to my room, which someone had a key to and just tried to break in. With a rope. And a bag. Pass.
Luckily, they were safe guys to be with. They shacked up together in one of the beds so I could have the other one to myself. Before they went to sleep, we planned that as the sun rose, we would go down and meet our surf group to tell them what happened. I wanted to tell Leah because I felt she would believe and help me.
I sat in the bed awake for the next five hours reliving everything that had just happened over and over. All I wanted was to call my mom.
The second the sun rose, I woke the two guys up. They did as they promised and took me down to the lobby of the hotel where everyone met for the surf tour. When I spotted Kayla, I ran to her and cried again, reliving the fear I had experienced hours prior. I told her as much as I could and, like I hoped, she ran me back to the hotel she was staying in down the street and gave me her phone to call my mom.
I have never in my life heard my mom cuss and scream as much as she did when I told her what had happened.
Within the next hour, my mom was able to get a hold of the hotel owner and book a flight back to Los Angeles which departed a quick four hours later. I was out of there quicker than I could blink.
During the next couple of hours sitting anxiously at Kayla’s hotel, the owner sent two of his hotel staff to interview me and get the whole story. I told them everything that I could remember. I told them how I truly believed that it was the server from the restaurant and how the security guard and restaurant staff seemed to be in on it with him. How they didn’t help me with anything.
About an hour after they left, I received a call from the owner. He was extremely apologetic, and he told me that he scheduled a ride to the airport for me to make my flight. He also mentioned that I would be refunded every penny I spent setting up this trip and was welcome back free of charge anytime. Ha, no thank you.
After his apologetic speech, he told me that his hotel staff spoke with the one-eyed security guard who tried to “help” me during the whole mess. The guard admitted to the owner that it was in fact the server from the restaurant trying to break into my room with a bag and a rope. The owner did not go on to tell me what he planned to do, but I really didn’t want to ask or know.
According to the owner, the server, along with the entire restaurant staff, are no longer welcomed back to the hotel. Moreover, the server would be arrested as soon as he was found. Apparently no one has seen him since.
I can’t imagine what would have happened if Kayla wasn’t there to help me. She stayed with me at her hotel and missed the surf tour until my ride to the airport came to pick me up. I am forever thankful for her kindness and understanding.
The moment I stood in LAX after getting off my return flight and hugged my mom in baggage claim was when I knew I was safe. I was back home. This came not even 30 hours after I had originally left.
