"cosmopolitan" enough, that it doesn't leave my small world of cereal, Buffy and fashion and venture out into the real world. That it doesn't fit today's jet-set lifestyle of waking up in Toronto one day and flying to Italy the next. Well, readers, I've heard you. And I want you to have the world.
The Knights Inn:
America's Best Value Inn:
The Royal Inn Motel:
Ohh, a Jacuzzi!!!
Here we are, so happy and clean and excited to spend the night in Detroit. We're pumped about the Motorama Motel and all that it potentially has to offer us (we're also a little excited about checking out Butch Walker and the Black Widows that night in a fancy Detroit nightclub, the Magic Bag. Yes, that's the real name. And yes, we felt funny telling the Border officers that we were heading to the Magic Bag for a night o' fun. ).
WE MADE IT!
This was one of the first sights that greeted us after walking into the Motorama Motel's spacious lobby--the broken ice machine. Which was really disappointing, because after a five hour car ride (one hour spent sitting in the massive traffic line at the Border), we all wanted to relax with a bucket of ice. Not meant to be, I guess. However, the front desk DID have single Magnum condoms for $2.00 each. That's way cheaper than in Canada!
Looks like we're having fun, right? Just a few girls pre-drinking Miller Lite (nice....), listening to some tunes and putting makeup on before a concert. WRONG. We had to get ready in complete silence because a group of men pulled up in a pickup truck outside of our room and began banging on the room right next to ours and yelling for the residents to come out. We instantly froze, turned off our music, pulled our curtains shut tight and ceased all talking, except for quickly devising an emergency exit plan (me lying down on the floor, doing a kip up and then knocking both men out while Heather, Leslie and Velvet run out of the room). You can see the fear in Velvet and Heather's eyes if you look closely.
What's this? Some ketchup on the ceiling? Ketchup looking suspiciously like dried blood? Oh well, no harm in a little ceiling blood. As long as it's not on the mattresses, right?!
SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE HELL.
After a mild freak-out re: blood bed, we realized maybe we were taking the wrong approach to our room. I mean, we're in Detroit. In a motel that offers rooms by the hour. OF COURSE there's blood on the bed/ceiling! It was time to embrace Detroit and her many customs. So after Velvet and I called the non-blood bed, I went to hang up my coat in the closet, which happened to be occupied by an extremely heavy piece of wood. We played the "what the hell is this?" game with it for awhile before realizing it was the blood bed's missing headboard.
See the bare patches of wood and all the chipped paint above the bed? Missing headboard territory. And yes, Heather and Leslie got stuck with both the blood bed and missing headboard bed. And yes, they are complete slobs. You two deserved the bed of shame.
TIME TO GO SEE BUTCH WALKER AND THE BLACK WIDOWS!
After an awesome three hour concert, we cabbed it home to our sweet abode, drunk but definitely not drunk enough.
You know what's fun? Stains on bedspreads that magically appear when you take a picture of them! Also fun: sleeping fully clothed to avoid any kind of contact with the sheets, using towels as pillowcases and seriously debating whether we should sleep in Leslie's two -door compact car. We did all of these things and more at the Motorama Motel!
Finally, the soft sunbeams of morning shone into Room 128. The daylight really brought out more of our room's subtle charms that we had somehow managed to miss the night before in our Miller Lite haze. Like artwork! In a frame! Sure, the glass frame had a huge, jagged crack in it and the picture was a bit unoriginal, but we appreciated the effort.
Motorama Motel, seriously, take the time to thank your interior designer. They served you well.
We decided to get the hell out of there about five minutes after we woke up, so we threw our stuff into bags and hightailed it. Conveniently, we were already dressed head-to-toe (H2T) from the night before, saving us about one minute. Which we actually appreciated.
On the way out, we ran into Motorama Motel's hardest working employee, the cleaning man. Notice how he's equipped with merely a vacuum. Zero clean bedding or towels, no disinfectant spray, no cleaning agents and NO MINTS. That's okay, vacuuming is really important too; most Motorama guests probably rave about the lack of apparent dust balls on the floor. And strangely enough, our room was still somehow dusty.
FINAL GRADE: D plus. They earned the plus because we survived the (terror-filled) night and walked away with only a few suspicious-looking red (bed bug? Towel as pillow marks? ) bites. A Detroit souvenir.
My advice to my fellow travellers considering a stay at the Motorama Motel would be to bring your own sheets, pillows, pillow cases, blankets, shower curtain, shower shoes, snow suit (or wet suit, as long as it encases your entire body leaving no skin exposed) for sleeping, some sort of weapon for protection (unless you're really good at kip ups) and maybe a car to sleep in after you're still grossed out by your beds.
Goodbye, Motorama Motel. I look forward to writing my Google review of you.
Readers, I hope you enjoyed my first cosmopolitan travelling post and that you feel a little more inspired to see the world! If so, I've done my job.