What Is Wrong With Hotels and Motels?

We stayed at a few hotels on our recent trip up to the Great NW, and I have learned a few things from the experience.

First of all, whether you call it a hotel or a motel, and whether you pay a lot or a little, they have certain things in common.  I should mention that we searched for places (on our phones) to stay each day, as we figured out where we would be that night.  Our basic criteria included space, cost, amenities, and location.  Unfortunately, we could not get a good idea of location in all cases, but we did focus on location in terms of where we wanted to go, and what we wanted to see either that afternoon, or the next morning.

Since we were a family group of seven people (four adults, three kids, 11, 14, and 16), we did need something beyond the standard room with one bed.  We asked for and booked two rooms each night, each with two queen sized beds.

Basically, they all offered clean linen, barely enough towels, a little bit of soap and shampoo, televisions, and little else.  Some offered a continental breakfast, at least one claimed a full breakfast (apparently based on offering waffles), and all had in room coffee (but only one with real cups, and none with enough sugar for even one cup of coffee).

Hospitality Inn - Portland

Our first night was at a place called Hospitality Inn (photo, above), in Portland, Oregon, and this was conveniently located next to a pizza place on one side, and a Mickey D's on another.  We found it to be adequate, and reasonable in cost.  The coffee was reported to be weak, and the breakfast skimpy (my wife checked it out, and I took her word for it).  We had breakfast and coffee at Mickey D's.

Valley River Inn - Eugene, Oregon

My son and his family stayed at the Valley River Inn (photo, above), on the Williamette River, in Eugene, on our second night (my wife and I stayed with my friend, Rich).  We all had breakfast there the morning after, and liked it.

Shiloh Inn - Tacoma

The next night we spent in my old hometown of Tacoma, Washington, and this mistake is on me.  I chose a location based on price, and a street address, with seeing this place on a map.  This was a place called the Shiloh Inn, located immediately adjacent to a very busy Interstate 5.  Naturally, we were stuck on the freeway side of the building.  Noise was the main problem here, but fortunately, we made our way all the way to So. Jefferson Street, nearly downtown, for dinner at Rock Wood Pizza, and enjoyed that very much, and there was a very nice place right across the street for breakfast, called Elmers.

                                                 

                                                                                          

We booked into the downtown Sheraton for our next night in Seattle, and found it to be very good.  Comfortable, and very close to so many different places.  We walked down to Pike's Place Market that evening, and had dinner at a rather pretentious place called Cutter's Crabhouse. 

Cutter's Crabhouse - Seattle

Then, we traveled way up north for breakfast the next morning to a little diner called Patty's Eggnest.

Really good breakfast.  By this point in our journey, I was very much aware of a commonality to be found in all hotels/motels, and I'll explain that in a moment or two, after I get to our last few places.

We made our way up into British Columbia the next day, and spent that night in Richmond, right close to Vancouver's airport.  This night we stayed at a Hilton, on a block chock full of hotels.  There was a Sheraton and a Marriot also on that block.  We tried to get into a place called the American Grille for dinner, but were turned away by a snooty person with a fake French accent (OK, it may have been real, but he was so snooty, it makes no difference.  He refused to seat such a large party, and at least one female staff member indicated we should have had a reservation. I guess the fact that they can't spell Grill should have been a clue for us).  We had dinner at Harold's Bistro and Bar, located in the Sheraton, and had a great meal, with a wonderful waitress.  That would be the American Grille's loss.  We waited for breakfast the next morning until we were back in Washington, and ended up at a Mickey D's in Bellingham.

Harold's Bistro and Bar

Crossings

I have to mention that our experience crossing into, and then back out of Canada was very, very different than what we are used to encountering here on the Texas/Mexico border.  First, crossing into Canada, the Canadian Border Guard was affable, cordial, efficient, and friendly.  He actually welcomed us to his country.  Upon our return the next day, the American CBP agent was a marked difference from every one that I have encountered locally over the last four years or so.  He was very friendly, joked with us, did his job efficiently, without asking intrusive questions ("Where did you go?  What did you do?  Where are you going?  What do you do for a living? - those are the questions I always get from agents here in El Paso).  Not only that, but there was no line coming into Blaine, Washington!  The line going into Canada the day before was longer.  Go figure.  I, for one, cannot explain why the local agents have to be so rude, so lacking in common courtesy, and, in short, so crappy.

Back on track, we managed to hit the Space Needle that day, and then caught a ferry over to Bremerton, headed for Tacoma again.  John, Jr. thought it would be fun to stay in a hotel casino, and booked us into something called the Emerald Queen for that night, but all we found was a smokey casino, so we decided to look for beds elsewhere.

We spent that night at the single most beautiful place encountered on our trip, location-wise, a Red Lion.  Unfortunately, this place, located on Capitol Lake, in Olympia, the state capitol, was three months into a renovation, with a good long ways still to go.  Their restaurant was hard to get to, their front desk was non-existent (some tables, with computers on them), and there were indications all over the place of work yet to be done.  The grounds, however, were spectacularly beautiful, with a great view over a small finger of the lake.  We had dinner at Red Robin, something we still lack in El Paso, and enjoyed it.  We had breakfast, free, at the hotel next morning, before heading out for our last night, in Portland.

Red Lion, Olympia

Our last night was spent at a very nice Crowne Plaza near the Convention Center.  John chose this because they offered an airport shuttle to get us to the airport the next day.  We drove around Portland a bit late that afternoon, and following the recommendation of my aunt, Donna, ended up at a restaurant called Stanford's in the Lloyd Center.  Great menu, great food, and great service.  We even had a free floor show!  Our table was located next to a large window on NE Multnomah street.  While we were eating, a group of young people came by, and one of the young men, somewhat the worse for drink, decided to water a tree standing right on the street.  Literally!  That's right.  He urinated right there on a public street, reinforcing our impression that Portland strives to outdo Austin, Texas, in keeping it weird.  We - unfortunately - had a perfect view for this sight that cannot be unseen.

Stanford's Lloyd Center

We also had one last breakfast in Portland, at Pine State Biscuits.  This was something very different, and within easy walking distance of our hotel.

  

Now, about that commonality I referred to earlier.  Every single one of these places has little, teeny, tiny toilets!  None of them come up to ADA compliance.  Now, I'm not saying that the ADA requires that hotels install higher toilets, but I am saying that toilets that are too close to the floor are not easy for old people to use.  Our knees hurt!  One of these was so low (I know.  I know.  "How low was it?") that it reminded me of what we used to call the 'Kimchi Squat' back when I was in Korea in the mid-sixties.  This may not be a big thing to most folks, but for future reference, I think I will ask for ADA rooms if ever I have to book another night in a hotel/motel.

Not the best of times.

Funny how we always used to say things like, "This is such a great time to be alive."  Or, "We've got it so much better than any other age in the history of the world."  

Well, what are the history books going to have to say about us, if there is anyone left alive who would be able to actually write such a thing?

Let's look at post-Reagan America.  We have taken away what used to be a growing, thriving, and very productive middle class.  We have turned out a couple of generations of people who are mostly ignorant of history, science, mathematics, geography, or much of anything else.  We have created millions of religious fanatics, both at home and abroad.  We have turned what used to be the World's leader into a below average, much hated nation.

We have failed to set examples in any important areas, while we concentrate on killing each other, and sending our best off to fight wars for the rich people who now totally control us.

We have very few people alive who are capable of looking at our Constitution realistically.  Especially damning is the failure to see the Second Amendment for what it is, and the inability to realize that maybe it could stand just a little bit of tweaking.  Be honest.  The Second Amendment was written in a different time, and for a different world.  It is time to update it, and pretty much scrap it.

Our response to horrible mass murders, on an almost daily basis is to offer up "love and prayers?"  Really?!  That's it?  That's all we, as a people, are capable of?  When is enough, enough?!

I just started watching an HBO production, "The Newsroom," last night.  Yes, I know, I am way behind the times.  From the very first episode, I started asking myself, "How can we get more people to watch this?"  So much truth is there!  They make reference to the early pioneers of broadcast journalism, like Edward R. Murrow, who set the bar so high, and Walter Conkrite, who was perhaps the most trusted man in the U. S., at one time.

They point out how television news began as an outgrowth of the really great news reporting that took place during the Second World War, and how the networks (mostly CBS to begin with) weren't necessarily out to make money, but to provide something valuable and worthwhile.  The show misquotes, or paraphrases, Thomas Jefferson by having one of the characters say something about "an informed citizenry/populace/electorate" being necessary for the proper running of a nation.

The point is that this is rightfully, the raison d'être for journalism, but unfortunately, our commercial networks forgot that many years ago.  At some poiont in time, they learned that their air time was valuable, so they started focusing on making money, and they justified their ongoing news programming by making it pay for itself.

So, today, our nightly news fix is dominated by commercials for Viagra, and anti-clotting agents, and obscure (expensive) prescriptions medications.  This is partly because they have learned that young people pretty much do not bother to watch their efforts any more, but they fail to realize that this is most likely due to the fact that the commercial news organizations cannot be trusted to maintain any standards of real journalism.

They blatantly slant their reports to echo the political stances of their owners and the corporations that pay for their precious air time.  So, now, instead of the viewers learning only about what is happening, the viewers are also told how they should react to the happenings of the day.  That is not journalism.  And, that is why we have been rewarded with political campaigns that make us the laughing stock of the entire world.

That's right.  The whole world has been looking at us in wonder ever since we elected W, a certified moron if there ever was one.  (But, then, I live in Texas, where we have pretty much cornered the market on fools in public office, ever since our last good governor, Ann Richards).  How can an entire nation possibly be so stupid as to vote for such an ignorant fool?  Well, mostly because the entire nation, with few exceptions, has been dumbed down, so that we easily turned into an oligarchy.

So, is this a great time to be alive?  I'd say it is pretty much a fulfillment of that ancient Chinese curse:  "May you live in interesting times."  And, by the way?  This is not ancient, nor is it Chinese in origin.  Go figure.

He was indeed The Greatest

Watching the coverage about the death of Muhammad Ali over the last week or so, I have had many thoughts pass through my mind.  It occurs to me that most of today's young people have no idea just what he meant to people of my generation.

I was born a few years after him, so I was old enough to be aware of his winning Gold at the 1960 Olympics, and I recall seeing his rise through the ranks of professional heavy weights, leading up to his fight with Sonny Liston.  Sonny Liston was not the most popular of champions, you understand, but he was the champ.  Many people were offended by the brash young man from Louisville, especially the older generation.

I do not want to claim that we who were coming of age in the 60's were already "enlightened" or yet into the "flower power" attitude that represented hippiedom, but I like to think that we were a bit more open minded than were our parents.  I remember the night that Cassius Clay beat Sonny Liston, and find my thoughts going over that night of late.

Feb. 25, 1964, was a Tuesday, and the outcome of that fight was much discussed by just about everyone I knew.  I was a senior in high school at the time, at the greatest high school you've never heard of (OK, if you have ever read my blog, then you have heard of Stadium High School, in Tacoma, Washington).  Being a senior means that I was very self centered, and had no time for much awareness outside my own tiny world.

But, we were impressed with the apparent bravado demonstrated by the young Cassius Clay, and - I believe - we were quick to realize that it was not entirely bravado or braggadocio behavior, as he backed up all of his big words.  Maybe we identified with him, to an extent, because he was not much older than we were.

Whatever our attitude towards him, I do know that, over time, we came to accept his brash predictions and his - to some - arrogant behavior simply because he did indeed accomplish those things that he said he would accomplish.  And, with the rest of the world, we all moved into his corner.

I think it is obvious that we all became enamored of this great man more after his fighting career ended, and his public life continued to set standards for all.  I could never hope to have to words to express just how big his impact has been on the world, and I certainly could not hope to even echo the great eulogy delivered by Billy Crystal at his funeral, but whatever I fail to say here, consider my feelings to be the same as Billy Crystal's, and let me just say that he spoke for me, just as Ali spoke for millions, and for generations to come.

Here's Billy Crystal's speech:

Cogito, ergo sum.

Stop going on about how when you die, "Poof!  You'll be gone." 

I guess my expressed opinions and beliefs have attracted a number of atheists as my Facebook friends.  That's OK.  We do still live in a free country, despite what certain GOP asshats would have us believe.  But, one thing that troubles me about atheists is this.  They seem as desperate to defend their position as a dedicated evangelical is to convert others to their belief system.  Proselytizing is still proselytizing, you know.

One of the positions that these people take is that anyone who believes in a heaven, or any kind of afterlife, is being extremely self-centered, or egocentric.  They try to say that once you're dead, you're gone.  Poof!  Some of them go on about how you will be absorbed into the greater universe or some such crap.  But, essentially, they want to dissuade you from believing in anything after this life.

Here's the thing.  I am self aware.  I am indeed very egocentric, because I have been aware of myself and everything in my world has always been seen from MY perspective, and I really do not see how any of us can expect that to change.  I have to quote Spock on this, and say that any idea where my ego, my "self," ceases to exist, on some level, after death is just illogical.  What the hell is the point of making me self aware if that "self" is going to just end?  Not logical at all.

So, if it is all the same to you, I'll stick with Descarte on this issue.  "Je pense, donc je suis."

Crossings

We went across the border yesterday morning to purchase two macetas (flower pots; in this case, a large size for a large plant, not necessarily a flowering type) to take with us on a road trip this coming weekend.  We already had two, and needed two more, to fulfill a commitment to our son, who we hope to spend some time with on this trip.

We found a place that sells them, and made our purchase, and then got in the very long line to come back across into El Paso, at the Ysleta Border Crossing Station.  This used to be a very routine kind of trip to make, and we used to go over at least once a week.  Once upon a time, the U. S. Customs and Immigration station at this location was a simple little building, with a simple two lane road, pretty much like this old photo, from 1962:

Of course, in this post 9/11 world, crossing the border is no longer a simple thing.  The lines are very long, and the wait can be more than an hour.  Then, of course, after the long wait just to get up to the booths where the CBP agents are, we have come to expect to be treated with less than the respect due to our age and status.

The crossing now looks like this:

Well, yesterday we were in my new/old Chrysler Town and Country minivan.  I just bought it a couple of weeks ago, and applied for the plates the day before, so it still has the temporary paper permit on the rear, that the County Tax Office gave me.  This is because I requested the special license plates that show me to be honorably discharged from the U. S. Army, and it will take a couple of weeks for those to be mailed to me.

As is the routine, yesterday I handed over our passports to the female agent, and opened the side door of the van at her request.  She went inside her booth, to her computer, and then, went over to the agent in the next line, and then came back, handed me my wife's passport, and stuck mine under the wiper on the driver's side, along with a yellow piece of paper.  She told us to pull ahead, under the large canopy, to station number four.

Under the canopy (which would be to the left side of the above photo), I parked at number four.  An agent came by, and told me to turn off the engine, and give him the keys, and he walked away.  We watched and waited as other vehicles were parked at nearby stations, and agents strolled by in groups of two and three, chatting and laughing, and we waited and waited.  At some length an agent with a dog came by, and he let the dog sniff around.  We asked him what was the delay, and why  nobody had told us anything, and why we were just there waiting, and he was only able to tell me that he would ask.  He also said that they (the many agents, in uniform, wandering around, chatting and visiting with each other) were not "allowed" to inform us as to any reasons for our delay.

Finally, more strollers came by, and - being less than happy with this entire process - I started asking questions:  "Are we being detained?  What is the reason for this delay?  Why are we waiting here?  Would you treat your parents like this?"  The agent to whom I posed these questions, of course, did not seem to appreciate my line of questioning, and he said something about "You're entering the United States from a foreign country, so you and your vehicle are subject to search and questioning."  (nobody searched, unless the dog walking around the van, and the female agent's cursory glances into the side and back of the van constitute a search).

Frankly, as best as I can determine, questioning by agents of CBP are supposed to center around possible illegal immigration and/or smuggling -  (https://help.cbp.gov/app/answers/detail/a_id/176/~/cbp-search-authority). - I would submit that we already let them see what was inside our van, and we had already provided their agent with our passports.  I would point out that the best information that I can find regarding the authority of these people seems to focus mostly on immigration issues, as well:  (http://immigrationpolicy.org/just-facts/authority-us-customs-and-border-protection-agents-overview)

Ultimately, he told me that the previous owner of the vehicle had had a problem when crossing the border, so they had to check us out.  Granted, I did not have the papers from either my recent purchase of the van, or from my picking up the temporary license just the day before, but frankly, I had no idea that those papers must be in the vehicle!  I must point out that the vehicle does have a current window sticker, and the temporary tags issued by the State of Texas.  I guess my problem is that I simply cannot understand what I, or the vehicle, for that matter, have to do with any problems the previous owner might have had with these people!

At length, we were finally told we were free to go, and we came on home.  But, I have to say that I really, really hate what we have become as a nation.  Cd. Juarez used to be our "sister" city, and we all felt free to come and go across the border, for all kinds of socializing and shopping.  I find it very hard to accept the fact that this kind of thing is no longer possible.  Frankly, I am left with the feeling, more and more, that the U. S. CBP, or whatever the hell they call themselves, is not at all interested in much beyond throwing their weight around.  Each time I have to interact with these people, I am left feeling like a second class citizen, and I resent that very much.  Why are these people not able to show the slightest bit of courtesy?