First Posted: 12/1/2014
Often, I’ll answer the call of the open road. And, as I expressed to you a few weeks ago, when I do find myself traveling, I’m not a big bed-and-breakfast guy, so that means I find myself checking in to a lot of hotels and motels and hoping that the real-life version of that super creepy Rob Lowe on those DirectTV commercials hasn’t just checked out of my room the day before.
This past October, as I try to do each fall when the golds, oranges and vermilions of our deciduous trees present themselves, I took to the road, this time traveling up into the Adirondacks and Catskills in New York and hopping over the Canadian line and checking out Quebec City, which meant seven different hotels over the course of nine days, and that’s certainly long enough to weigh in on the mysteries that await far from the comfort zone of my crib.
Really, when it comes to prearranging rooms to match destinations on a rolling vacation, where each hotel is only a 24-48 hour stopover, several of those mysteries won’t present themselves no matter how many online reviews you read about what’s gone on within the four walls where so many have slept.
There’ll be no mention about just what happened to eat away such a large portion of the carpet right below the sink in that Super 8 or why the room you stayed in at that Best Value Inn didn’t have a clock or just why, despite the commercials that promised there’ll be a light on for you, that there was not one but two light bulbs burned out in that Motel 6 room.
One question I’ve always had about rooms on the road is just who’s using the chest of drawers? It seems to me that a set of drawers suggests a whole lot more permanency than a room at the Holiday Inn offers, so unless the TV is perched on top, Mr. Hotel Room Planner, get rid of the dresser and open up a little extra room! Trust me. We’re working out of an open suitcase that’s sitting on one of those collapsible racks!
Of course, there are many mysteries travelers would probably not want to explore when it comes to the bedspreads. I wonder how many feel all that good about pulling that comforter all the way up to their chins when they snuggle in after a day of frivolity or business.
Now, of all of the mysteries, the funniest one I ever came across was in an Econo Lodge in Bloomberg, Pennsylvania, my last strange bed last October before returning to the familiarity of home.
That night, I did something I rarely do. I picked up the hotel directory, which I never think I need. You see, about everything I need to know about a place can be handled at check-in when I ask, “What time’s breakfast?’ I’m not there to work out, swim or sit in a hot tub where all sorts of mysteries may lie beneath the roiling waters. Now, while skimming the directory, I saw a section that began with this preamble:
“It pleases us to know that our guests enjoy our in-service supplies enough to want to purchase them. If you should like to purchase something, see the head housekeeper. Should the housekeeper discover missing items after your departure, we will assume you wanted to purchase them and will bill your card appropriately.”
Then, there was an itemized list of virtually everything in the room — from towels ($20) to sheets ($70) to the mini-fridge ($125) to the curtains ($125) and on to the TV ($500)!
My, what a unique way of addressing the issue of theft beyond what is acceptable, (such as those little bottles of shampoo and lotion and that pad and pen).
Now, the mystery has to be, if someone didn’t write this with tongue firmly planted in cheek, just who’s going down to the head housekeeper and saying, “I’d love to buy that mattress where hundreds have slept, and while we’re at it, is the toilet also for sale?”
So, before too many years roll by and my world sadly shrinks and travels cease, I’ll continue to venture a highway for the diversity of new places and new faces and, of course, to try to unravel the enigmas that lie within those walls that have sheltered so many.
