Wednesday, July 20, 2011

The Hotel California via Montgomery, AL

Last week we were psyched and ready for the family vacay to Florida. We had planned to leave early Wednesday morning, but my dear hubby suggested that we load up and leave Tuesday after he got off work. Fun! I spent much of the day packing and trying to make sure we didn't forget anything vitally important and just after lunch it began to rain. Buckets. Did I mention that we had decided to take my mother-in-law's bigger and more comfy SUV on the trip? Seemed like a great idea because it would mean not having to load up the "turtle shell" thingy and put it on top of my car in the rain. (Not to take credit, my dear husband always takes care of that task.) I had already gased up my car, cleaned it out, gone through the car wash and gotten an oil change, but a roomier car would make up for all that prep work into mine. So, what seemed like hours later, we had transferred strollers, car seats, portable high chairs, DVD players and the like into the borrowed vehicle and we headed home to pack up. Soon we were on the road. After a couple of stops we realized that with a 13 month old and a 4 year old, it may serve as more prudent to stop overnight somewhere, say, around Montgomery. After consulting Price-line and the Garmin we discovered a quaint Red Roof Inn, and I called ahead to let them know we would need a room and would be there in roughly 15 minutes. The super friendly voice on the phone asked me if I would like an inside or outside room, and I chose an inside on the third floor. (First red flag being the question inside or outside room. Hmmm.) Let me preface by saying I am a former flight attendant. By that I mean I have seen my fair share of hotels, including one in NYC called the Milford that we referred to as the "Mildew". But I digress. Upon arrival, we had to circle the building twice to locate the entrance. No signage, and it was on the side of the building. (Red flag number two.) By deductive reasoning we found the tiny porthole serving as the entrance and unloaded our tired kiddos to find our room. The lobby was modest, but the staff (of one) very friendly. She checked us in and off we went. Upon leaving the elevator, we rounded the corner and I felt a bit of a surge of adrenaline. Was it from excitement, you ask? No. Have you ever seen "The Shining". You know the one. I half expected twin girls at the end of the hallway or Jack Nicholson peering from around the corner. We quickly found our room and entered. Yowza....the kids headed for the bed but as their faces started for the comforter, I am pretty sure I yelled "NYOOOOOOO!!!!" and dove head first before them to strip the comforter off the bed. There were mysterious stains on the furniture and rug, and I kid you not, a wad of gum behind the headboard. I went immediately into the bathroom and discovered some unsightly hairs clinging to the inside of the toilet bowl. EWWW. By this point, the pack and play (ours...NOT BELONGING TO THIS ROACH MOTEL) was set up and the kids were tired. I bathed Rylie in the shower and almost passed out when she went to pick something up from the bottom of the tub, because I thought she was going to sit down. The kids were ready for bed and I suddenly realized there were no extra blankets for the pack and play. Dilemma. Do I risk my life by going down to our car to get ours or risk scabies by borrowing a blanket from downstairs. I had already literally sniffed the sheets (No, really LITERALLY...picture me going from bed to bed sniffing pillows and sheets) and they all smelled freshly washed, so I ventured downstairs to the front desk figuring it would be easier to get antibiotics than to try to recover from a stray bullet. The lady at the desk was nice, and went to retrieve my linens. She returned with a sheet that she assured me was "new" and also found a baby blanket, commenting that maybe they used to have cribs here? Don't worry...I sniffed it too. As I walked away she asked me if everything was ok. I hesitated and then told her about the small hairs in the toilet. After offering to come and clean it or asking me if I would like some bleach (REALLY!?) I politely declined, and rushed back up stairs praying that a random act of violence didn't happen to me in the hallway. Did I mention that our room overlooked the pool, which apparently had to be well lit ALL night long and the minuscule shades did not black this out. It reminded me of the pool scene from National Lampoon's Family Vacation. Seriously. Anyway, after Cohen woke up 3 time during the night screaming like a banshee and then thrashed the rest of the night like a fish out of water with me in the full bed, I looked at my clock which read 6:00 am and I was ready to go. I showered and got dressed and we all headed down for breakfast. (Side note: No one was allowed to go barefoot in that room, and had I had water shoes, Rylie would have worn them in the shower. Also, I actually put toilet paper down on the seats for her to go pee pee and touching any remote control was banned. Don't Judge me. Have you ever seen those 20/20s with the black lights in the hotel rooms. EWWW.) Anyway, after a lovely breakfast downstairs in which there was no high chair so my 13 month old sat in his adult chair and ate a muffin in a style akin to that of a log going into a mulcher (muffin explosion) and my excited 4 year old chatting non-stop, much to the chagrin and raised eyebrows of the businessmen with their laptops and/or papers all around, we were at last free from our stay at the Bates Motel a'la the movie "Psycho". We walked out into the warm breeze which smelled of a rotten egg baking on a pile of dung and loaded our kids up. As I attempted to buckle Rylie in, I placed the two barely-touched-but-opened milk cartons on top of the car.We had checked out and were on to greener pastures. As I smiled at Stewart through the other side, where he was buckling in Cohen, the breeze picked up, and suddenly a tsunami of white came down upon me, dripping down my head, onto my clothes, legs and shoes. One can only laugh at times like these. Thank you Lord, for humbling situations that cause you to look at life a little less seriously!