Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Life's Great®

There are dozens of cities across the country and even in Europe where I can visit and know I have a place to stay, whether it's a guest house, a spare room or even a sofa. That's why it feels odd now that when visiting my home town, I have to stay in a hotel.

For Dad's funeral, my sister wanted to reserve a block of rooms in the same hotel for the out-of-town family and friends. Unfortunately the only place she could find in Escanaba with enough available rooms was the Super 8.

It actually wasn't so bad. Pet-friendly and the wi-fi, like the coffee, is free. I learned how Super 8 is the official hotel of Richard Petty Motorsports, so it's got the whole NASCAR cachet going for it. I found it odd but interesting how the room doors didn't spring themselves shut and, indeed, tended to stay open as guests milled around and socialized in the halls and common areas, occasionally popping their heads in to say hello or look for their free-range children. Despite the blustery winter weather outdoors, inside had the warm communal vibe of a southwestern trailer park.

The pool area was filled with teenagers drinking beer and pushing each other into the water. The bare concrete and sharp brick edges ensure a future lawsuit that all the NO DIVING stencils in the world will be unable to prevent. It's enough to make me wish there was a way to abdicate my Foursquare mayorship.

On the upside, I didn't see any bedbugs. I figure either the climate is too cold for them, or they were wiped out long ago by the Legionnaires'.

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