We’re on a short road trip, going to a wedding. The road part of the trip was wonderful, relaxing (hubby drove most of the 6-hour trip), and blessedly uneventful. We had beautiful weather and cooperative traffic. They all knew we were headed to a wedding, it was plain to see. Even that one extra-long, extra-wide load truck finally allowed us to pass him, staying in his lane long enough for us to get by, before he began taking his half in the middle of the two lanes again.
When we arrived in the town where the wedding is to be held, we had to find a motel and then find our friend, the mother of the groom. Since we’re on a budget, and our ‘real’ vacation is coming up next week, we debated staying at their motel for one night (luxurious, green manicured lawns, pool, jacuzzi, hot tub, breakfast, $115 per night – but where’s the adventure in that??) and heading home immediately after the wedding that evening, or getting another room down the road at half the price and staying two nights. We opted to stay at the other motel. It was a wise choice financially. The jury’s still out on whether it was the best choice all around.
My first clue that we hadn’t chosen a 5-star motel came before we even pulled into the parking lot. I don’t mind a few weeds here and there. I don’t even mind a motel sign that’s not exactly ‘right,’ if the price is right. As we pulled into the lot, I noticed that none of the angled parking spots right in front of the rooms were occupied, which made me wonder if there was anybody actually renting any of the rooms. There were about 3 other cars in the center parking spaces, so I guess we weren’t totally alone. I wasn’t driving, so I had time to peer around. I noticed the gal in the office walk over and unlock the door as we parked. I wondered to myself why the door was locked at 4 in the afternoon. No matter. We needed a room.
We squeezed into the office and one step took us to the counter, where we asked about rooms and prices. They only had one double room that she offered us at the price of a single. I’m not a smoker. I notice when someone else is, or was. That little space could have once been a bar, if one judged by smell alone. Oh well. We needed a room. I just prayed the rooms were non-smoking.
Crowding the door was the dining area: a table with various cellophane-wrapped items and an empty coffeepot. This must be that continental breakfast. We had a choice of items . . . two fruit pies, three Little Debbie chocolate cakes, and a Twinkie. Dibs on the Twinkie! Hubby was wedged between the table and the brochure stand, reading about the attractions of the area while I filled out the papers for the room.
Securing the room, we were then given a bit of advice regarding the parking situation, which totally explained the absence of cars around the perimeter of the lot. She said we should park in the center, because the trucks that come through the lot at night don’t always watch exactly where they turn. I like my car intact; we parked in the middle.
The room itself is big enough, but it was roughly 89 degrees. The A/C brought it down to about 88 before we left to meet our friends for the rehearsal dinner and rehearsal. I hoped it would be below 80 when we got back. I think it was close – probably 82 or so. I was a bit taken aback by that second bedroom, though. Don’t close the door or you’ll never get out!
The bathroom . . . ah . . . the bathroom. It did have a couple of clean-looking towels and one washcloth. They must have known hubby doesn’t use them. The bath mat has a stain on the label, but it’s going to be on the floor, and that’s why I bring flip-flops. It did make me wonder, though, if their washer is broken. Oh well.
Moving the nightstand to look for an electrical outlet, I discovered where the last occupant lost the baby’s diaper. At least it wasn’t a used one. I checked behind the other nightstand. No baby. *whew* The button (not off anything of ours) in the floor by the door screams, “The vacuum is broken too!” I tend to believe screaming buttons.
One lamp works – MY lamp. Hubby’s would probably work if the switch was there, and if the socket didn’t turn full circle when I tried to check if the bulb was screwed in all the way. He’s OK with that, though – we just have to snuggle up and share the light. Or turn it off. 🙂
I wasn’t so crazy about those little winged visitors, though. Hubby assured me they were moths, or mosquitos, or something. I wasn’t totally convinced. Nor was I convinced that there were only the two he killed. But I don’t see any now, so maybe he did get them both. I’d swear (IF I swore, which I don’t), though, that there was a full battalion. Hubby says only a couple. Really. OK.
I must have been pretty hot – I spilled my water bottle all over the sheets. Does that make me a bed-wetter?
Well, the adventure picks back up today. The office is once again locked tightly, with those cellophane goodies teasing from the window. I wonder if they’re just afraid someone will actually want to eat those things.