The Motel Chronicles, con’t

It’s Friday night, the first night of our week’s vacation.

We’re relaxing in the living room discussing what to do. We see a commercial advertising cut rate flights to California and discount car rentals.

Half an hour later we’re booked and on our way.

We fly into San Francisco and spend a few days exploring the northern regions of California. Every afternoon we find a pay phone and call the 800 number for motel reservations.

No problems.

I even make friends with the 800 operator!

After San Francisco we drive down to LA.

(FYI: if you ever decide to drive the Pacific Coast Highway, don’t do it heading south. That puts you on the OUTSIDE lane. And there are places where the pavement has crumbled away leaving no shoulder or even the white line designating where the shoulder USED to be! California doesn’t seem to believe in guard rails, and it’s a LOOOOONG way down to the ocean! Just sayin’.)

We don’t really like LA so we head to Palm Springs.

When we arrive we call ‘Jim’ to have him book us a room.

 “Are you kidding?” he says. “There’s not a room for a three hundred mile radius of Palm Springs because of the International Date Festival!”

The what?

THE INTERNATIONAL DATE FESTIVAL!

Who knew there was a whole festival celebrating the DATE!?

(Preakness flashback!)

Jim was right. Every motel we stop at is booked.

At 3 AM we come upon The Bates Motel.

I kid you not!

BATES! (Someone had a very twisted sense of humor!)

But it’s late and we’re exhausted and they have a vacancy, so we get a room.

We didn’t sleep a wink!

We lay in bed staring at the ceiling waiting for Norman to show up dressed as mother!

The good news is he didn’t!

As the sun was rising we were dressed and gone!

We didn’t even ‘check out’! Just left the key in the room!


Do you notice a pattern developing here? LOL