Seven-Eleven convenience stores got their name from their once unique business hours, when they opened from 7.00am until 11.00pm in an era when business had not yet learned to cater to the convenience of the masses.
Motel 6 called themselves after their first nightly rate. Hasn’t anyone told them that’s just a tad out of date? Aren’t there any standards controlling that? I’m considering going there and demanding a room for six bucks just to see what they say.
Palm Springs hotels, if they followed the trend, should be called Hilton-two-fifty or Comfort-Inn-Varies-According-To-Who-Checks-You-In. I don’t go to those…
Motel-Fifty-Nine-Ninety-Five-But-It-Really-Depends stands at the end of town past the point where the street lights end. I found it by accident several years ago and I’ve been finding by non-accident ever since. Wish they could just remember me so we don’t have to go through the lets-negotiate-the-rate fiasco.
There’s HBO, a noisy air conditioner that sounds like an ice cream van and vaguely reminds me of my childhood in England every time the compressor starts up, and the lingering smell of cleaning fluid.
A room is a room is a room. I’ll be spending the next 4 months in places just like it, except that there’ll be a bike in the corner.
Now, my stomach is forcing me to investigate (again) that worryingly authentic English Grille down the block….
Motel 6 called themselves after their first nightly rate. Hasn’t anyone told them that’s just a tad out of date? Aren’t there any standards controlling that? I’m considering going there and demanding a room for six bucks just to see what they say.
Palm Springs hotels, if they followed the trend, should be called Hilton-two-fifty or Comfort-Inn-Varies-According-To-Who-Checks-You-In. I don’t go to those…
Motel-Fifty-Nine-Ninety-Five-But-It-Really-Depends stands at the end of town past the point where the street lights end. I found it by accident several years ago and I’ve been finding by non-accident ever since. Wish they could just remember me so we don’t have to go through the lets-negotiate-the-rate fiasco.
There’s HBO, a noisy air conditioner that sounds like an ice cream van and vaguely reminds me of my childhood in England every time the compressor starts up, and the lingering smell of cleaning fluid.
A room is a room is a room. I’ll be spending the next 4 months in places just like it, except that there’ll be a bike in the corner.
Now, my stomach is forcing me to investigate (again) that worryingly authentic English Grille down the block….
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