Give me an "H"!

Okay. I'll admit it. I'm somewhat of a hotel snob. But I prefer my "otels" to start with an "H" rather than an "M".

We stayed at the M-variety on our trip to Wyoming last week.

Since we flew into Denver and were driving about half way to Jackson, Wyoming that night, our options were quite limited.

I must also mention that Dave is hotwire.com fan. Yes, hotwire paid off a couple years ago when we booked a 5-star hotel in downtown Chicago for about $79/night.  I trusted him. 

Fool that I am.

The Rawlins Quality Inn was just what you'd expect for a 2-star motel. The beds came up to my knees. The sheets were somewhere between 50 and 75 thread count. Although it was non-smoking, I felt certain that the Marlboro man had been a previous guest. The room air conditioner sounded like a B-52 turboprop taking off, followed by 3 minutes of placidity before the B-52 took off again, followed by another 3 minutes of placidity. (You get the picture.) 

(I suppose It could have been worse. About 20 years ago I cut open the bottom of my foot on a Dorito hidden in the shag carpet of a Cleveland Motel-6 I was staying at. At least I didn’t require first aid this time.)

I knew I was going to have a hard time falling asleep. Dave snores, and the trick to a good night's sleep is to fall asleep before he does. But I was prepared. I had brought along a special friend for the trip: my good buddy Ambien.

I brushed my teeth, popped the Ambien, and settled in for a deep, drug-induced sleep. 

The last time I'd taken an Ambien I was on a flight to London. I swallowed it at take-off and woke up rested about 8 hours later with a smile on my face and trail of drool down my shirt. So my expectations for a good night’s sleep were very high.  

I lay on my back and waited for the powerful wave of sleep to overcome my body. After about 15 minutes, Dave started snoring. CRAP!!!  The bed springs started poking into my back. I got a sliver from the sheets. And my mouth started tasting like nicotine.

But I was patient. I knew the Ambien would eventually kick in. (And thankfully, the B-52 air conditioner blocked out half of Dave's snores.) 

Midway through the night I fell asleep, but unlike on the flight to London I woke up sore and cranky. 

Then I attempted to take a shower. This is the way the shower was supposed to look. 

This was our shower.

It wouldn't have been so bad if there had been a way to keep the shower curtain open: perhaps a set of magnets or some duct tape. 

Even talented Body Jammers like myself have a difficult time washing our bodies while holding a shower curtain closed with 2 hands. 

Thank goodness for the breakfast at the Hoot'n'Howl, the bar/diner attached to the Quality Inn, and it's remarkable decorating scheme! There was a wall of fascinating oxymoronic concert posters, such as the 1967 Monkees’ concert with Jimi Hendrix as the opening act.  

Then there was the celebrity mug shots section.  

It was a nerdling blogger's wet dream!

It even made up for the waiter who came to our table announcing that they didn’t get a food delivery that week, "so don't even bother looking at the menu. You can have pancakes or pancakes”. We had pancakes.

The next night I was bound and determined to get a good night's sleep. I decided to have a heart to heart discussion with my good buddy.  

"You really let me down last night. You'd better work tonight!" 

My Ambien laughed at me.  "You should put on your reading glasses before taking prescription medicine," she said. 

"And by the way, Einstein, I hope you didn’t mess up your thyroid by taking that extra dose of Synthroid last night." 

With friends like that who needs enemies?