Nakazaniye

I arrived in Manehattan on a cold, rainy afternoon in fall. Some four or five years ago that must have been, but I couldn't say for sure. Maybe it was six or seven. I'm terrible with numbers, you know. Recalling any sorts of facts and such has never really been among my strengths. I've always considered myself more the poetic sort of pony. Somepony with a refined taste for the finer arts. Or at least that's what I could have been. I never really invested much time in appreciating any actual pieces of art. But had I ever done so, I'm sure I'd have enjoyed them very much.

When my train pulled into Manehattan Central at some time during that day, rain kept pouring down in streams from a thick, dark gray curtain of clouds. The weather had already been bad all day, but apparently the local pegasi decided to give it a little extra squeeze when I got off. Or so I thought. The rain seemed to be a little less strong when watching it from inside the cabin.

As soon as I exited the wagon, I noticed there wasn't any kind of roof anywhere on this platform. And the terminal building was all the way across the station grounds, a good two-hundred feet off. Several tracks still ran between the next dry spot and myself.

I winced; even galloping straight across would take me a good twenty seconds or so. While it didn't sound like much, it would still last long enough to get myself soaking wet. I couldn't really afford that. Of course, it wouldn't matter all that much if it were for my coat only, even though drying myself off afterwards always turned out to be a pain. I was more concerned about the two saddlebags strapped around my back. I needed to watch out after those.

Much like the rest of my scarce belongings, they weren't in a very good shape. Only two weeks ago, during a brief stay in Whinnyapolis, I somehow managed to tear one of them open on the bottom. I still can't figure out how that happened. It must have briefly gotten stuck somewhere when I didn't notice or didn't keep an eye out. These things tend to happen.

After giving it some thought, I had then decided to reinforce the bottom of both bags with a solid bit of cardboard, thus more or less preventing anything from falling out. Of course, that also meant I couldn't let my saddlebags get wet, unless I wanted them to fall apart completely. All things considered, the cardboard solution probably wasn't a very good idea after all. I came to regret making that decision, too. I really should have noticed earlier. I should already have noticed how bad an approach it was back in Whinnysota, right after the first rainfall. And there's rainy days up there pretty much all the time.

Now, I didn't have a choice. That was pretty clear right from the start. And I didn't have any time to lose either, so I wished it all to Tartarus, and dashed forward as quickly as my hooves would carry me. I leaped clear across the remaining tracks, and still arrived below the station's balcony in less than half a minute. Luckily, there weren't any other trains arriving or departing at the time, otherwise my visit might have been cut short a great deal. Because I pretty much forgot to look out for them, I think. Or maybe, I just didn't care.

I almost crashed through the door to the terminal building, given the sheer speed I still had upon reaching it, then tumbled into the crowded foyer that lay beyond. Most of the ponies I could make out in here were exceptionally well dressed, with the middle and lower classes only represented as a minority. My fears of Manehattan being way overdressed for a mare like me were easily dismissed, however, at the sight of a bum sleeping on a nearby bench, wrapped in blankets and old newspapers.

As far as first impressions went, this didn't tell me a lot about the city I just arrived in. It might have been a fancy place, but it didn't have to. Eventually, I shrugged off the thought and started shaking my entire rump and head back and forth in order to dry off to at least some degree. I think I saw some of the nearby ponies regarding me with disgust, while some others just brushed it off with a sneer. I really couldn't care less, either way. The worst thing to possibly happen would be somepony trying to sue me for money. Because I had no idea where that would be supposed to come from.

Then again, they probably had every right to react the way they did. I hadn't gotten a shower or bath in over a week or so.

I suppose I drew some of my immediate priorities from that thought. A bath sure would be nice, especially regarding this kind of muddy weather. And a room with a bed to sleep in, I thought. Those might round off the image pretty well. I'd been forced to sleep out on the street or some park bench on several occasions during my life. Although both may present an acceptable alternative at times, I really do prefer some dry place with a heater. Especially during this time of the year, that is.

After quickly plucking a still-fresh copy of the day's Manehattan Times from a nearby trash bin, I turned to head out of the building on the opposite side. Sure, I hated the thought of going back out into the rain. But it was just another necessary evil, right now. Unless I wanted to wait in the terminal building for the rest of the day, or whenever else the rain was supposed to stop. And I didn't want that. I was worn-out and tired from the journey, and from not seeing a proper bed in about three days. I felt cold, hungry, and perfectly annoyed by all those mindless ponies rushing on and about around me. Plus, I really wanted a bath.

Trotting up to the main exit, I spotted a row of small billboards on the wall right beside it. One of them described the way to a cheap hotel of some sort, somewhere nearby. The advertisement caught my eye almost immediately; for some reason, things like these look the same in every city, everywhere across the country. Or maybe, a pony like me just notices when she's spoken to after a while. In any case, I knew what I was dealing with.

Now, when I call out on a hotel being cheap, I really mean it. There's all sorts of products, deals, or services around the world I could describe with that word. As in, low budget, but they still work. And then there's things like these kinds of hotels, which are cheap. The really lousy kind, that is. A rusty bunk somewhere in the back of an office complex, combined with some cold breakfast and a cup of coffee that tastes like somepony already drank and digested it, earlier on.

Of course, they also never charged any more than five bits a week, and that at least was something I could afford. Scattered across my saddlebags at the time were twelve or thirteen of those coins, most of which I'd earned from running a few errands for a clerk while passing through Fillinois, the day before. The concerning address was located somewhere on East 39th Street. I had no idea where that was, but it couldn't be very far off. Whenever a place like this gets advertised at the railway station, it's usually within two or three blocks' range.

I stepped out into the open soon after. To my distaste, it was still pouring outside, maybe even heavier than before. I couldn't tell about that for sure. I only knew that I might need something else to reinforce my bags with, after today's walk. Maybe just some more, thicker cardboard would do the trick. It's not like pieces of that stuff aren't easily interchangeable, or something.

A row of cabs stood lined up front on the sidewalk, their drivers waiting for any potential passenger with anxious expressions. I can only guess how hard those inviting smiles of theirs must have been to keep up. Most of these stallions' coats were already dripping wet; they must have stood and waited out here for hours. One of them even asked me if I needed a ride, but I've never been one for luxuries like that. I would certainly enjoy the possibility, but my wallet usually tells me otherwise. Instead, I needed to cover this distance by myself, potential damage or not. The station was already at 42nd East, so it shouldn't be that long a walk, one way or another. In the end, it took me a good twenty minutes to get there.

The place was a lot like I envisioned it. Of course, most of my expectations came from experience on the subject, so that shouldn't be too big a surprise. A few helpfully positioned signs lead the way around a massive brick house, up to an insignificant looking steel door in the backyard. It wasn't locked, so I guessed it must be the right one. I sort of expected some kind of lobby or foyer to greet me, once inside. Instead, I only faced an old staircase, illuminated by several old neon lights. Each of them hung from the walls above the steps in regular intervals. Another helpful sign then informed me that the hotel was in fact situated on the eighth floor.

Grimacing, I once again shook the rainwater out of my drenched coat, then proceeded up the first steps. My saddlebags were now ruined for sure, and I'd be damned if I wouldn't catch a cold by tomorrow morning. It was by sheer luck that I hadn't lost anything out on the road, by now. Or maybe, I just hadn't noticed.

By the time I managed to march up all eight floors, I was already panting heavily. The dampness in my coat had drained all the energy from my limbs, I figured. There was an elevator in this building, but it didn't work. I never actually tried it, but doing so would be a waste of time in any case. These things never worked in cheap places like this one.

I could only hope that the hotel itself would still be in business. I hadn't met anyone else while trotting upstairs, which left me with a slightly discouraging feeling in my chest. Of course, the landings between floors also looked nice and cozy to some degree. Or at least, they would make a better resting place than anywhere outside. Hopefully, I thought, I wouldn't actually have to make use of that alternative. While sleeping on the stairs seemed a lot more pleasant than heading back out into the pouring rain, it also really wasn't what I'd come here for in the first place.

As it turned out, I got lucky. Another steel door would meet me there, this one with white paint that was already falling off in some places. And much like with its equivalent below, I was glad to find it unlocked. The room that lay beyond was anything but classy, still I wasn't one to complain about it.

It was kind of a long, empty hallway, about thirty feet in length and a good ten to twelve feet wide. On the far end, it seemed, the room took a turn to the left. A single, wooden door led on ahead from there. There was a counter to my right, reaching up approximately to the height of my shoulders. A tan coated mare with a bored expression was seated at a desk on the other side. Engrossed in some sort of crossword puzzle, she took a few seconds to notice my presence. In fact, she likely wouldn't have noticed me at all, hadn't it been for the sound of the door slamming close behind me.

"Need a room?" she asked, peering up towards me. Her eyes reflected everything but enthusiasm.

"Exactly," I replied, while trying to force a smile. "I'd like that five bits a week treatment, if you please."

Saying so, I already reached for my bags, then placed the coins onto the counter between us. The mare nodded. She took my money without anything further to add, then reached for something below for a second. Eventually, she returned to my sight with a small, rusty key between her teeth. It had a wooden plaque attached, bearing the number 213 on one side. Somepony had scribbled it on there with a black marker, a while back. She dropped it onto the same spot where my bits had been a second ago.

"Comes with a bathroom," she explained. "Try not to use too much water while you're at it. Your room is on the upper floor; there's a staircase down the corridor, just around the corner. Once upstairs, yours is the third door to the left. Dining room's up ahead from here, breakfast each morning from seven to ten. Any questions?"

I shook my head in response. "Nah, I'm good." That seemed to do it for her. She went back to her puzzles almost immediately.

Somehow, she didn't even want to know my name. Which was just as well, since I've never been particularly proud of it. I guess everyone born into a family called Punch would have had that thought sooner or later. I wasn't so sure about my parents, but neither had I been with them for a good three or four years, by now.

It didn't matter, though. Following the mare's instructions, I wouldn't take long to find the room I was looking for. The concerning door presented the number 213 in stained brass letters on its uppermost portion. While not very luxurious either, it certainly did look a lot more homely than the entrance area had. In general, the hotel's upper floor made a much more inviting sight than what lay below. At least up here, the white walls were hidden behind some beige wallpaper, and a dark-brownish carpet effectively covered the linoleum floor. The style it was decorated looked ancient at best, and the wallpaper already peeling off at some places, but I'd prefer it over nothing at any time.

My room was decorated scarcely, but it contained all I needed. It even had an outside window, located opposite from the door. There was an old bed with a frame made of steel pipes on the far right, and a desk situated right below said window. A wooden stool was placed in front of it. There was a simple light bulb hanging from the ceiling, held up by nothing but the wires that also powered it. Another door was placed into the left-hand wall.

I quickly closed the entrance door, then dropped my ragged saddlebags, and rushed over to take a look at my bathroom. Luckily, there really was a bathtub in here. I would have thanked Celestia for the occasion, hadn't I given up on that sort of thing a long time ago. I still didn't hesitate to turn on the hot water, and have the entire basin fill up to the top. The only other thing on my mind right now were my saddlebags, but I decided to have their condition drag me down at some other time. I didn't need that, now.

As the tub was only halfway full, my hooves started came down inside it one-by-one. Ignoring the water's excessive heat, I slowly but steadily submerged myself into the almost boiling liquid. I didn't really care about the temperature, though. The effects of the heat were pretty much negligible compared to the wonderful sensation of a whole week's worth of sweat and dirt loosening themselves off my coat all at once.

I sighed in relief as the warmth slowly surrounded me on all sides. Maybe nice things still existed in this world, after all.