Almost twenty years ago, my aunt in Florida got married. At the time, there were no chain hotels in her town- only small, independently owned motels. When my family convened to fly down, my mom informed us that my aunt had arranged motels for all the out-of-town guests.
“Where are we staying?” my brother asked.
“The Tangerine Inn,” my mom announced, enunciating each word.
There was a moment of silence. “Sounds…classy,” my brother commented.
For years- decades- afterward, I compared every hotel room I stayed in to the Tangerine Inn, and every other hotel room won. The room contained two beds, a TV, and a dead cockroach. That was it. To be fair, it was better than finding a live cockroach. I have minimalist tendencies, but this was beyond bare bones. There was no handle on the bathroom door- only a hole where the handle should have been. There was no towel rack or hook to hang a wet towel.
One morning, after a shower, I discovered I was trapped in the bathroom. With no handle, I couldn’t get a good grip on the door, and there wasn’t enough room to get any leverage to pull it open. Luckily, even though everybody else was outside, my dad and brother heard me yelling for help and rescued me. I guess that’s the upside to paper-thin walls.
After that visit to Florida, the first thing I’d do after arriving at any hotel room was flit around, opening doors and drawers, calling, “Look! There’s an iron and ironing board! There are hangers! A coffee maker! Cups! A hair dryer! Kleenex! A miniature bottle of shampoo! A towel rack! A microwave! A refrigerator! A pad of paper! A pen! A chair! A desk! A phone book!” I was like a starving child who had stepped into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Even though I don’t drink coffee or blow dry my hair or have a reason to iron clothes, what a rush to know that extras were included.
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While visiting coworkers over Thanksgiving, a couple of them assumed, “You have to feel more confident” (after my recent travels). I don’t know about that, but I may have become more blasé.
One side effect of the camping lifestyle is that I can tolerate the cheapest of motels. Overwhelmingly one-star ratings? No problem. So the security door guard is broken. Maybe it smells like cigarette smoke. There are hairs on the sheets. The bathroom isn’t exactly “clean.” Hey, I’ve showered with scorpions. (Good thing I was wearing flip-flops!) I’ve had to stuff my tent with water jugs and bins full of notebooks just so my tent wouldn’t blow away. I’ve showered in a bathroom that had no roof on it. (Thankfully, I did not see any drones or low-flying planes.) I’ve had sand rain down inside my tent all night long. And I realize that I was lucky to have a tent in the first place, plus any kind of shower and a modern bathroom, not to mention a car filled with items to satisfy practically every want and need.
On nights when I was freezing or staying in run-down RV parks with makeshift tent sites, I probably would have welcomed a stay in any motel, even one with a missing door handle and a dead cockroach. After all these years, I think the Tangerine Inn has been redeemed.