Motel on the edge of town


Monday, October 14, 2013


I thought by paying the extra I would get a larger room than last year. This proved not to be the case.

Situated on the other side of the utility room from the room we had last year, the new room simply had an extra bed, and since it was the south wing of a classic u-shaped motel building, the room lacked the window in the back so all we had were the two windows looking out onto the walkway, windows we had to keep the curtain over or get blinded by light from the motel complex.

We changed from a more prestigious motel with a remote ocean view last year to save money – and I was woken by the classic after midnight moaning from a couple in the room next door, and the bang of the bed. That couple apparently were regulars at the motel but moving to another room saved us from the worst of it – and thinking of Lincoln Dunkin I sort of missed it this year.

Three women who bar hopped on Saturday night moved into the room on the other side of us, complaining about hangovers on Sunday morning, but apparently didn’t get lucky.

The savings on the motel also left us with no microwave, not internet access, and no closet space. We hung up coats and such on a more or less portable rack behind the door, and piled the rest into a dresser near the door.

Having forgotten to bring a night light from home, I stumbled over things from bed to bathroom in the middle of the night, often forced to use my cell phone as a flashlight. This was particularly helpful in locating socks and underwear for my early morning rise to go greet dawn on both mornings (a disappointing affair from previous years since the sun didn’t show his face until it was very high and then only through a veil of clouds).

I mostly went outside to seats along the walk to write or read. On Saturday, a rather uncomfortable couple moved into our old room and then complained about the volume of my conversation on the cell phone (I have to speak loudly to be heard) saying they wanted a nap (this was about 1 p.m.)

The call had come from a sister that – until a few months ago – I did not know existed. So we had a lot to catch up on – like our whole lives.

A couple of elderly men (perhaps gay) occupied the room at the end of our wing, and they perched in their chairs night or day taking in the air, so we passed them to and from our car frequently, pausing to talk about weather and about where we came from.  A couple my age became friends from one of the bars on Friday night. They were disappointed in the music in one club and had moved onto another with a younger crowd so that they could dance. The band was better at the first, but not at all dance music. The second night the band was better, but the couple stuck to the younger club where they could head bang if they wanted.

I just wanted to hear the music so both nights were good nights in that regard.

The second night, we came home late from the bar and found the entire parking lot filled except for the two slots in front of the office which we were told we could not use.

I was about to park on the street when one of the managers came out and waved us into one of those two vacant slots.

He, his wife, and some heavily accented Scottish women seemed to run the place, and the Scottish woman even remembered our visit from last year. All three seemed to be friendly, not unusual for this part of the planet, but pleasant.

We’ll go back to the motel next year, but request our old room back, the one with the window looking onto the woods in the back, and noisy midnight neighbors who remind us what motels are really good for.

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