Bartlett Motel

I’ve done too much traveling this past year. I’ve seen my share of small motels in the middle of nowhere.
But this one takes the cake.
Actually, this one reaches in the toilet, pulls out a lumpy substance, and tries to sell it to you as cake.
Check my Unilocal profile — I rarely give one-​star ratings.
But one star is too many for this place.
Here are the highlights of my experience with the Bates — I mean Bartlett Motel.
–I cross the street to the local bar, asking the bartender to call the motel owner so I could check in for my room (there’s a semi-​permanent note in the motel office, instructing you to do this).
–A woman that could easily pass for Bilbo Baggins arrives and tells me she’s «made a little mistake» and booked all four of her rooms through the weekend (though I had called three weeks earlier and ‘reserved’ a room… and she hadn’t bothered to get my name during the phone call).
–Bilbo Baggins tells me she has a friend who has an empty house; I can stay there.
–I spend the night in an elderly lady’s home, under the creepiest circumstances I can possibly imagine («Don’t bother locking the doors,» Bilbo Baggins squeals as she drives off into the night).
–I spend half the night lying in bed waiting on someone to burst through the door with an ax or chainsaw («Probably an ax,» I reason. «A loud chainsaw would ruin the element of surprise.»)
–The other half of the night is spent staring at: 1) the absent elderly lady’s slippers by the night stand. 2) the absent elderly lady’s notes scribbled by the phone. 3) the absent elderly lady’s checkbook sitting on her desk. 4) a dark staircase leading to a basement, where I presume the absent elderly lady’s corpse is hidden.
–I call Bilbo Baggins to tell her I’ll find other accommodations for the rest of my stay.
–Bilbo Baggins makes me wait 40 minutes at the bar across the street before she runs my credit card and somehow manages to charge me extra for staying in the creepy house.
Things that didn’t happen during my stay:
–An apology from Bilbo Baggins.
–Any sort of question such as, «How was your stay?»
–A smile from Bilbo Baggins.
Save your sanity and your money (and possibly your life) and look into the Sandhill Seasons B&B 15 minutes away (see my review). It’s cheaper. The folks aren’t rude.
And you won’t be subjected to methed-​out crazies wandering out of their motel room wearing a half-​open bath robe.