We went on vacation many years ago.
We decided to go touring caves in KY, loaded up the pickup with camping gear and hit the road. We had a blast the first two days. The third night evening there was an awful thunderstorm. The tent was not going to cut it, so we went looking for a room. We stopped at a small motel in a wooded area. Rooms for $25. The woman took our $25 and grabbed a lantern and took us to our cottage. It was the honeymoon cottage, we could have that one so that the construction workers wouldn't bother us. Okay. She showed us the padlock on the outside of the door, so that we could secure our stuff if we left. We should have run at that point, but noooo. So we take the key and go in our room. It's dry, that's good. Electricity! Woo Hoo! I sat down on the bed and rolled to the middle, stuck. It sagged to the floor. Mr. V pulled me out when he was done laughing. All he could see was legs kicking in the air. The drapes were old raggedy red velvet, so was the hairy bedspread. The door did not lock from the inside. We had an ancient milk house heater, brown rusty water and hairy used soap.
I ran to the truck and got our sleeping bags (and the machete) and we slept on the floor. I don't think either of us slept, I was staring at the door clutching the machete handle, watching for Norman.
As soon as the sun came up we fled the Bates Motel in search of a shower. OMG.
We haven't been on vacation since.
At least my nose has stopped the constant running.
sounds like my VKs. It's either raining or I'm sick.
