finding the right hotel (lyn)

I didn’t learn my lesson with Zelia when we traveled with our sons to the Southern schools.   We ended up lost in the backroads of North Carolina looking for a hotel.  I really thought that Hanover, NH, in early summer, midweek, would have an abundance of available rooms.  So again, I left without a plan for where we'd spend the night.

We arrive in Hanover yesterday around 5:30.  Our first stop is the Hanover Inn.  This lovely hotel is right in town and exudes New England charm.  But the almost $300/night price and no AC make the decision easy.

We then drive a few miles out of town to The Chieftain Motor Inn.  It is listed as a place to stay on Dartmouth’s website and the description sounds nice.  We get there, and while situated on a beautiful piece of property, the place is not at all inviting. The sloppy-looking guy at the front desk could have been an extra in Psycho.  But at $119/night, I’m thinking, “Well, maybe if the rooms are okay…,” but they aren’t.  

We next head in the opposite direction to a bed and breakfast I had read about online.  After climbing a long windy road with no lights, we arrive at a big rundown house.  The room is large and acceptable but musty. The location is not great (I would not want to drive this road after dark) and it’s still $200/night.  But included is a big breakfast.  I conjure images of homemade waffles, Vermont maple syrup, and warm cinnamon buns.  I want to say yes, but knowing that I can’t eat any of this imagined breakfast feast, we get back in the car.

Next stop is a few miles out of town at a Marriott Residence Inn.  This looks perfect. We even see a shuttle bus and yes, the driver says, he can make trips into town so we don’t have to drive.  Lobby looks nice.  People are well-dressed with all their teeth.  It’s closer to $200/night, but I’ve rationalized that it’s already 6:30, I don’t want to be looking for a place to sleep in the dark, and it’s near campus.  “I’m sorry.  We’re totally sold out.”   You've gotta be kidding!  It’s at this point that Alexander reminds me that my no-plan strategy is a bad one.  We get directions to a Fairfield Inn.  The directions are complicated and involve getting back on I-91 and driving two exits out of town.  This is not the adventure I had visualized.

As we begin driving, I see a Days Inn and think, “Why not?”  We pull in and the little lobby is clean and inviting.  We ask about rooms and there are only two left.  With Triple A they are only $89 a night.  $20 less than the lovely Chieftain Motor Inn.  I mention this to the pretty desk clerk and she tells us about a woman who, just the night before, had fled The Chieftain in the middle of the night when she woke up and felt itchy, and then saw ants crawling over her body.  We ask to see the room and it is basic, but fine.  Clean.  Good size.  Wi-Fi in the rooms.  AC.  And, breakfast.

So that’s where I am now.  Alexander is still sleep, and I’m in the lobby having breakfast.  Good coffee (except for the Styrofoam cup), an English Muffin with cream cheese, and maybe an apple later.  Perfect.