I left Florida late in the afternoon driving and headed for Washington State. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, and I planned to make it to Atlanta before nightfall. As it turned out, there were traffic problems on all significant northbound highways in South Florida, and it slowed me down considerably. Alas, I did not quite make it as far as Atlanta, but I got to a place just north of Valdosta, Georgia, and approximately 100 miles south of Macon, Georgia on I-75. I was tired, so I pulled into a hotel to see if there was a vacancy. It seemed that every civilized hotel within 10 miles of Valdosta was full, and Valdosta is still in a second world development state. I walked to the front desk of this no-name hotel. Before I could enquire about vacancies, the attendant greeted me with a gruff, “if you ain’t got a reservation, we full.” Which way are you heading, North”? Yes, I said. “Well, there is a motel at exit 45 with vacancies”. Thanks, I said and left on a further adventure.
There was only one motel at exit 45. It had a tall lit billboard that said Economy Inn. A motel with a name! I thought out loud. Also, in bold letters across the building was a sign that read, all rooms $34.95, clean rooms. The fact that they were advertising clean rooms at that price should have been an immediate clue that I was in for some dangerous adventure. But I was tired and what could be wrong with $35 and a clean room announcement in third world America?
As I walked up to the office, I noticed that there was no lobby, a black 1984 Mercury sitting on four flat tires looking like it was abandoned since 1984, along with Orwell’s theories. Not be deterred, I walked up to the office to ask about a vacancy. A grumpy old East Indian came to the three-inch-thick plexiglass with a little hole like a bank and pushed a small piece of paper to get my credentials. Behind the plexiglass was a pleasant model of a room. It was tastefully decorated with all the amenities of a two-star hotel. But this level of Brinks protection should have been my next clue. If the landlord is living behind thick plexiglass, then there must be some mystery lurking behind door number two, like this is not a safe neighborhood. But I was tired, and they advertised cheap, clean rooms.
.How much is the rate? I asked Duh! It’s written on the building outside. “Forty dolla’ with tax, cash” in a strong accent. “If you use a credit card, it is two dolla’ mo.” Do you have a military discount or AARP discount? I asked. “Don’t know what that is, we don’t have a discount.” Came the reply. I guess it was a bit too much to ask for a discount at these prices. But I had to try. It was a developing adventure. “When you leave in the morning,” he said, “you can put the key in this hole.” A separate hole in the plexiglass for keys. I paid with cash and headed to my room. No way was I going to leave my credit card information in the jungle.
Look for Part II soon.
Stan Brooks, PhD