The Comfy Corner

In my unceasing pursuit of the comfiest corner in the world, I have, much to my dismay, found myself in the unsettling arms of the Super 8 motel chain. As I pass through the hideously carpeted hallways that wreak of prostitution and bad decisions I begin to fully realize how spoiled I've been. Growing up, I was accustomed to vacationing in the laps of luxury in such hotels as the Hampton Inn, the Holiday Inn and the Double Tree. There, I was greeted with a smile and a warm cookie. The sunshine-bathed rooms were only magnified in there grandioseness by the crisp, clean air coming out of the AC and the "heavenly beds" that were made to perfection with loving, foreign hands. However, now that I am footing the bills, I have discovered that such luxuries come with a price tag a bit beyond my budget. So, as the classically truthful adage goes, you get what you pay for. I have been kicked out of luxurious Downton and banished to the filthy stables.

I'm currently blogging from a Super 8 in Wapakeneta, Ohio. Or as my boyfriend misheard me, "Wombat-kinetic-energy, Ohio." The dim, dusky room is furnished in what I can only guess to be resold funeral parlor furniture. The absence of a fitted sheet on my bed is all too unnerving. The mysterious brown stain creeping along the edge of the box spring is only highlighting the lack of a bed skirt. The hilariously identical, old pictures of flowers hanging above each bed does little to add anything remotely cheery to the room. In fact, they only serve to show how thoughtless and tasteless the decor is. And yet, I must sadly and honestly admit that this is one of the nicest Super 8's we have been to yet!

The last Super 8 I was in, I had the great fortune of crawling into a bed that was already occupied - with bed bugs. A first experience for me that I wish to never repeat. After a room change, a hotel change (thank you Comfort Inn across the street), a couple sleepless nights, and a thorough inspection of everything I own, I have recovered from that experience and I now meticulously examine my beds before I crawl into them. The first Super 8 we stayed in was fortunate enough to have mold in the shower that didn't actually work and a faulty toilet. The Russian mechanic that came to "fix" the shower abruptly said to me, "You must lift up for water!" And left. So, what knowledge have I wrought from these experiences? That a comfy corner is not always so easy to come by. The things that keep me sane are my Yankee candle I carry to every room I stay in, the blanket that my mom gave me, and Netflix. So wherever you are in the world, I hope you are finding your corners a little comfier than the one I'm in currently. And I hope you're grateful for it. And Super 8? I super hate you. So get it together.

Stay comfy ya'll.

It’s a three-hour drive followed by an evening at the Super 8 in the-middle-of-nowhere, Indiana. The only nearby restaurant is a Taco Bell (mildly exciting, I must admit, but still sad) and the front desk person at the hotel says, “when people wanna have fun around here, they generally stay at home.”  To top it all, your TV is missing key channels such as ABC and NBC. So whaddya do?! For me, recently, the answer is clear - play Words with Friends until your phone dies. Or, play my new Boggle-inspired personal favorite, Scramble with Friends.

I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t fall asleep because my mind is on an endless journey of letter combinations. Instead of drifting smoothly into dreamland I am chanting, “mar, ream, mare, mares, ram, rams, reams, mere, smear…” It’s actually becoming a problem. The worst part is, I’m not just playing with actual friends. I get impatient when my real friends don’t play quick enough so I play random opponents. I sit there battling with “rachelisbugmad” and I imagine this snotty, greasy-haired, little twelve-year-old girl absolutely destroying me at this stupid word game. What once was a game becomes a battle of wits and conquering the unknown. By beating this anonymous girl, I am proving to myself that I have what it takes to get through any random situation. It’s become a reflection of my life!

And then there are Words with acquaintances, Words with Facebook-friends-that-I-don’t-really-know-but-stalk-occasionally, and Words with past-professors. Each one presents its own mental stresses. I find myself sending them subliminal messages through the words I choose. I play “fart” for 8 points and they respond with “classy” for 12. It’s a whole language we’ve created and I giggle for hours afterward. Once I finish giggling I begin to evaluate my life. I think about how I ignored that phone call from my mother because I was trying to put the letter “z” on a triple word tile. I think about how I didn’t eat dinner because I was trying to decide if I could make “poop” into a longer word (Is “shipoopi” an actual word?)

And now as I write this blog, I begin to realize that what I have achieved from hours of gameplay and total word domination is – an addiction. I could be using my time in much better ways. I could be having dinner with friends, laughing with friends, watching movies with friends. REAL friends. Not virtual board game versions of my friends. So as good as my word game skillz have gotten, I think it is time to lay it to rest for a little while. I have an addictive personality when it comes to computer games. I once spent an entire week playing the Sims until I developed a headache so bad I was on the floor crying. I would say to myself things like, “My happiness meter is low.” This tells me that it is time to light a candle, curl up in my comfy corner, and contemplate better ways to use my time while on this tour. Stay comfy ya’ll, put down your phones and play with real friends.

Tour de Seuss has thus far taken me deep into and all over the most exciting part of the country - the midwest. It's a part of the country that I decided long ago I would never return to. But alas, here I am once again. This time, however, I'm checking my hotel sheets for bedbugs. So, as I sit here in my Effingham, IL hotel room nibbling on my fried chicken, I begin to think about all of the midwestern stereotypes and how very true they are. Here are 7. Warning: I'm about to get very "New York" on you.

1) Things are cheap - we Yelped a restaurant in Dayton, OH called "Cold Beer and Cheeseburgers" aka "exactly what Nathan always wants" and it said that it was 3 money signs. In NY, three money signs means "actors not welcome." Apparently, in the midwest three money signs means 7 dollar burgers. Not joking.

2) People are nice - When I need to change lanes quickly in the midwest, I legit roll down my window and ask the person beside me if I can cut in front of them. They always smile and wave me right in. "So midwest."

3) Highways are boring - I look at the lonely houses in the middle of these HUGE fields and all I can think is, "If they wanted to go to their neighbor's house, they'd have to pack an overnight bag."

4) Fast food is the norm - We went to Taco Bell last night and there were like 12 people in line ahead of us. They were having a birthday party. Or that's what it looked like. People don't mess around with fast food here.

5) Hotels are for prostitutes - My tour mate, Peter, used the hotel lobby computer to print something and all of the pictures in the documents folder were of prostitutes. Really classy. This is why I avoid the bedspreads.

6) People dress poorly - Sweatpants and Uggs. Apparently, that is apropos for all occasions. You can always tell if someone's from a city if they are wearing normal pants and shoes. I mean, I feel absurd wearing a scarf around here.

7) The gays are in Chicago - Everyone's straight in the midwest. If I felt the need to fit in, I'd throw on an Ed Hardy shirt and some baggier jeans. The only place I felt normal was in Chicago. Where there's an H&M with men's clothing, there are gays.