Tucumcari, NM is pretty creepy.
In June 2003, Eric Nguyen, Scott Blair, and I ended a day in Tucumcari, settling for a non-chain motel on the edge of town (that was our first mistake...we had a coupon, though). The place looked nice from the road, but after checking in, we found our room to be in a separate building - or, rather, bunker - in the back. It was like something out of a horror movie. The room looked as if it hadn't been updated since the 70s. I seem to remember the walls being covered in some sort of red velvet.
Worse yet, the building looked to be a temporary home for some folks - and not the sort of folks you'd want to tangle with. Honestly, it felt like we were being watched, and with two cars full of equipment, we were pretty nervous.
Still, we decided to stick it out, heading into town to find a bite to eat. The only place that looked trustworthy was a Denny's on the interstate. That was quite an experience in itself. The food and service were both equally terrible, but the real kicker was that the restaurant was full of some extremely creepy people. There was a "family" sitting in the booth behind us - two aged drifter sorts, and a young kid that insisted on having an ice cream sundae for dinner. The thing is, the way they spoke to the kid and each other made it seem like something funny was going on - as in, they kidnapped the kid and were on the run from the law.
Upon finishing dinner, we gave each other a "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" look. Yup, we were getting the hell out of Tucumcari.
Since we had to return to the motel to return our key, we figured we'd might as well see if we could get the credit card charge for the room reversed. So, we concocted a plan...
Eric and I come screaming up to the hotel lobby in the van, the orange strobe on the roof flashing. Eric jumps out, runs in, and tells the receptionist we're severe storm researchers, and have to get to Amarillo pronto for work. Things are going crazy, so we'll be out all night...probably won't get any sleep. I come running in, frantically spewing some crap about mesos to 40,000 ft. or something equally ridiculous. Then, Scott (who is waiting outside) calls my cell phone, and we start bantering back and forth about explosive hail cores and so on.
By this point, the receptionist has gone all wide-eyed...and completely falls for it. What's funny is that it took a good 10 minutes to get the charge reversed (required a phone call), so we had to keep this act up for awhile.
Then, we busted it out of Tucumcari, not stopping until we hit the Super 8 in Amarillo.
So, yeah, I'd avoid Tucumcari. Or, as we've come to call it, Tucumscary.
Just glad to still be alive
