Sorry all that I have left the blogging to the Doctor. It's just that I have been doing most of the driving and he's been working on his computer in the car. Isn't technology wonderful?
After we left Asheville and the hospitality of my brother and his Significant Other, we made our way to Indianapolis. On the way, the Doc searched the interwebs for doggy-friendly hotels near the interstate, and happened upon "America's Best Value Inn." After calling, he found that a room at the ABVI could be had for the low, low price of just $59 per night.
This should have been a warning. But we looked at Google Street View and it seemed like your normal, faceless interstate motel.
When we pulled into the ABVI parking lot, the Doc jumped out of the DoggyLimo to check us in while I took the pups for a pee break. I noticed a lot of empty 40-oz. bottles of malt liquor in the grassy areas of the motel, but chalked it up to the proximity of the highway. The Doc had to check in through a window of bullet proof glass.
We got our room, the door of which was dented with what looked suspiciously like boot-heel marks-- as if someone had attempted to kick the door down.
We were hungry and starting to get snippy with one another (AKA, "hangry") so we fed the dogs, brought in our stuff, and headed out to search for sustenance. I am a lousy navigator, so even with the help of the GPS (which I have taken to calling "The Bitch," because she is always smarter than I am) I got us all turned around and farther from the food than when we started. The Doctor got sick of my blathering and indecision and pulled into a likely-looking parking garage attached to a hotel, with a sign for something called the "Weber Grill." All the Webers I know required charcoal and a dangerous amount of lighter fluid to produce food, but at this point I would have eaten an E. Coli burger Raw with a side of Salmonella Skins and been happy about it.
It turned out that we were parked in the garage for this giant glass and metal "entertainment complex" in downtown Indy. We had been to this complex once before, during a business trip for the Doc that I tagged along to, and which involved a tiki bar, flaming shots, and an electric bucking bronco. Don't ask. Anyway, the place was like a freaking Habitrail for people. We had to go up and down and around and on escalators and elevators and skywalks to get our lousy spinach and artichoke dip and a shared chicken salad.
We made it back to the ABVI without incident and collapsed into bed. We slept like the dead, having resolved to shower in the morning before we left.
Oh, if only we had looked at the towels before we slept on the sheets. The cold, cold light of morning did the ABVI-Indianapolis no favors. The towels were smeared with dirt and strange gray spots of indeterminate origin. It would have been more sanitary to wipe ourselves dry with the wadded-up Kleenex in the ashtray of the DoggyLimo. I began to notice the other signs of filth and general grossness: mold in the bathtub, brown buckled wallpaper, fingerprints on the telephone handset, Penny and Bell's unflagging interest in sniffing in certain corners. We escaped only $59 the poorer, having learned a valuable lesson about motels that seem too good to be true.
America's Best Value Inn: Not the Best. Not a Value. Not an Inn. Barely American.
Tomorrow we stay in a Marriott.
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