The trip is over. We've arrived north. Tired, sore, verging on cranky and trying not to be. Yesterday's last leg was brutal. Ironically, it was also the shortest leg, unless you count the day we were only inside "The Park" - Rocky Mountain National Park of course. But it was the night before which did us in before our last leg.
First, we started out sleep deprived, after a string of days sleep deprived. Our first morning it was rush-rush, get it all done and git! Our second morning was wake to dark skies and load the car to leave the first minute we could see the road so we wouldn't miss the scenery on the way. We were in Colorado now! The third morning's sleep, and fourth, both were spoiled by the new "Permitless Entry" system. You had to enter the park before 5AM, meaning not just getting into the long lineup caused by construction at the other entrance, but getting past it before 5, or you weren't allowed to get in the entire east part of the park for the day, unless you'd scheduled your exact 2-hour entry window months ahead. Good luck! As for the rest of the park, it was in before nine or after 2, and you were free to go wherever... except the best parts of course, which was why we got up so early.
We could have slept later the next day, but we were staying with cousins we both dearly love, but see less than once every few years. We'd arrived late, stayed up late talking, and still gotten up early because now it was a habit. Even though they were sleeping in. We stayed for a couple hours after breakfast, but had to head down the road to the next motel.
That was the real culprit! It was the Airport Super 8 in Lincoln, Nebraska. We got there at a reasonable time, looking forward to a good snooze before heading out, no clock pushing us. Apparently the hotel didn't care how much we needed a good snooze.
I had carefully made reservations for a handicap accessible room. The view inside the front door wasn't promising. It is a three story motel. From the front desk there is a perfect view of the breakfast room... down about 8 stairs. There is another view of the next floor of rooms... up about 8 stairs, with another flight past those heading up farther than I could see to the third. There was no floor with rooms leading off past the desk at the same level I entered through those automatic sliding doors. But hey, they had 2 handicap parking spots outside the front door!
There was a line to check in, of course, but not an issue. In the process I had time to look around and hope like hell they had an elevator.
Nope.
What they did have was an outside door on the east end of the building that was low enough that you could walk in without stairs. It needed your key card for security of course, but I've seen that before. The "handicap wing" was right inside there, and had a wheelchair on each room number plate in case you had a question about its suitability. Of course, you had to get to the room first. That meant putting your key in the opener, and somehow pull open the 90+ pound door of ordinary width so you and your luggage could squeeze through before it closed and squeezed you in. No handicap touch plates, no wide door. What it really meant was that no individual person with disability issues who was traveling alone could possibly get inside the motel. At least there was a ramp from the two handicap parking spots at that end of the building and around the corner to get down to the door. What you did with it from there was your problem.
I have a few suggestions.
But I happen to like my personal freedom.
Presuming you arrived at your room, successfully opened it, and fought your way through the pressure of its door closer with your luggage, you still had to do so fast enough that it wouldn't scrape you in the process of keeping anybody following you inside from achieving their goal. Steve got scraped (sorry, dear) and that was with help. Or what was supposed to be help anyway. He sat down while I made the next 7 trips in. Actually I lost count, but it felt like that many.
Still, we made ourselves comfortable, pretty much. It worked for us until bedtime. Experience had taught me to pull out the severely tucked in bedding before trying to climb in or you'd be trapped in a cocoon not of your choosing till morning. Especially since the bed was so close to the wall you had to ease in sideways, perfect posture and sucking your belly in so get all the way up to the pillow end.
Or should I say "pillows end"? What's with the multitude of tiny pillows on motel beds these days? What sales team is so effective that they can convince hotel staff all over the country that a bunch of little pillows slipping out from under your head and through your arms leads to a restful night's sleep? They are never the right thickness either. One is too few. Two, even if you could wrangle them, is too many. On a bed for two people they left us 3 pillows.
Seriously, WHO THE HELL'S IDIOT NEPHEW IS ALLOWED TO MAKE THESE DECISIONS? ("Hey, Honey, let's let young Ralphie order the pillows, he can't possibly screw that up too, can he?")
The only decision worse than the quality and number of pillows was the height of the bed. The side near the wall was as high as my navel. Just exactly which disability is well served by having to climb up that high into that bed? A speech impediment? (If you wanted to answer in the affirmative on that one please explain how, exactly, it would be served.) As if to show how embarrassed they were by having that side so ridiculously high, the other side of the bed was only up to my pubic bone.
That's right: THE BED SLANTED!
If I got into the uphill side, which I did first, being "my side" of the bed, I was fighting the demand that I roll downhill to the other side of the bed. On my shoulders, the pressure to remain in place was, to say the least, excruciating. In order to get out of the bed, it took a combination of rolling and climbing uphill, then figuring out how to twist to the side so I could slither along the wall to clear the bed entirely.
Need I mention that having the dog there at the same time needlessly complicated things? That is the single thing I can't blame the motel staff for. She's there every night. It's not normally an issue. This just wasn't normal.
I accepted Steve's offer to switch sides with me. It was a much easier climb in at the lower side, and sleep finally became possible without fear of rolling or the need for climbing out. It did help that by then Steve had gotten in the bed and weight on the other side helped balance things somewhat. Not perfect, but improved at least, enough so that I'm pretty sure I managed three or four hours sleep by morning.
Perfect for the next day's driving! It was the first time in many years I had to drive through rain so thick I temporarily lost sight of the white road lane stripes. The best part of the worst part of the trip was that Paul was waiting for us with Strawberry Shortcake for supper!
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