In 2014, my mom, three sisters, two nieces, and I went to a hotel in Santa Fe, New Mexico known as The Lodge at Santa Fe. Shortly after we got in bed the first night, I was in the hypnagogic state between being asleep and awake when I saw three young Native American girls. When I first saw them they asked, “Do you know who we are?”
On the drive back from Vegas this weekend, the road got icy in the mountains near Vail, so I decided I better pull off and stay at a hotel, or sleep in the car if necessary. I wasn’t happy about it. Even though it was after 2am, I was jacked up on Mountain Dew, and just wanted to finish the last ninety miles to get home.
I got off the interstate at the next exit. The roads were nasty slick, and I slid around the dark collection of motels and gas stations until I saw a skanky motel whose “Vacancy” sign was lit. My car couldn’t make it up the motel’s hilly entrance, so I parked in an open flat area below, grabbed a bag, and walked five minutes in the freezing precipitation to get to the motel entrance, finding footing anywhere I could.
Ever have one of those days where you wake up in a bathtub full of ice in a hotel room with one of your kidneys gone?
One thing I learned on vacation this week: It doesn’t hurt to ask for the “biggie” hotel room. Turns out they had a really nice discount on this nice size suite, which was much more comfortable than the usual little hotel room. (This room is a “mini suite” at The Lodge at Santa Fe, in Santa Fe, New Mexico.)
Whoever does the marketing for the Lodge at Santa Fe, in Santa Fe, New Mexico, does a great job.
The Arctic Caribou Inn. The "Hilton" of Deadhorse, Alaska.
The office of a motel, somewhere in Canada (I can't remember where at this moment). This was in March, 2010.