No-tell Motel

Well, in preparation for the 45 MPH winds and heavy rain expected, I went out and moved the garbage cans, and lawn chairs. I prefer not to have to walk a block tomorrow to find and retrieve said objects.

So Tom and I will be heading to a wedding (didn't mean to rhyme) this summer, and I made a hotel reservation at a budget chain. $41 a night! My mom expressed concern about the hotel, and I responded to her that I don't expect more than a bed for that money and it can't be THAT bad. In my first blog, I told of a ticket that we received in NY as we fled Batavia. Here's why we fled:

The last night of our vacation, we were trying to get as far as possible. I have a certain threshold for how long I can be in the car; Tom does not. At about 9pm, I'd had it, and wanted to stop. Tom wanted to continue on to Buffalo and stop at the Anchor Bar for wings. I believe I became belligerent (hard to believe, I know). We stopped in Batavia, and we got a room at a Days Inn. We'd had good luck with Days Inns along the way, and they were relatively cheap. Tom got the last 1st floor room and it was a smoking room. I didn't care; all I wanted was a bed to sleep in. Apparently, smoking was a REQUIREMENT in this room. It reeked. We went to watch T.V. and the remote was firmly stuck to dresser (with what, I'd rather not know). This was the kind of place that has an outside door to the parking lot, and an inside door into the hallway. Tom was going for snacks and ice, and I went with--I wasn't staying in there alone, man, uh-uh. When we opened the door, the first thing we noticed was that the carpet was not actually adhered to the floor. They were in the process of re-carpeting the hall. Then we noticed that instead of having the room number at eye level, it was at the very bottom of the door. I had visions of me hitting the deck and calling the police ("I just heard gunfire! Come quick! I'm in room 241! Thank God the room number is right here!") Back inside the room, I decided I'd rather shower before bed so we could just leave at the butt crack of dawn the next day. I actually felt DIRTIER after my shower. Tom is a gentleman, so he pushed the table and chairs up against the outside door before we retired. Finally, Tom had to insist that I take my shoes off before I got into bed. yech...In the morning, Tom checked out, and I asked him if he said anything about the condition of the room. "Yeah, but he didn't do anything." Tom doesn't complain the way I do, we'll just leave it at that. His job is to reach stuff on the high shelf, my job is to open a can of whoop-ass now and then.

While we were sitting on the freeway, while the trooper wrote out a ticket, I believe Tom said, "I told you we should have just kept driving to Buffalo. We could have had wings." Sorry, man, you were right.