First Encounter with a Vibrator

I have always loved motels and hotels, and the anticipation I feel when I slip the key in the door of my assigned room. Even as a child, I begged to be the first one in the room, ready for a new adventure. Our family trips to visit my mother's family in Iowa involved two nights each way going out and returning home. We never stayed anywhere that didn't carry the AAA rating. My parents didn't think it would be wise.


On one return trip to Virginia we had to settle for a cabin court that was not recommended by AAA. I believe we were somewhere in western Pennsylvania, and there was some type of convention, festival, or hootenanny that lit up the No Vacancy signs at motels for miles and miles. We usually stopped driving before dark, but on this night it was well-dark before my parents gave up and pulled up to the office of an old cabin court style lodging place. I was thrilled; our own tiny house! We had never stayed in a place like this before.


My mother was horrified when we entered our little cabin. There was a big tree in our room. More accurately, the cabin had been constructed around a large live tree, and the trunk was at the far side of the beds. You had to squeeze past it to enter the teensy bathroom. My mother, of course, envisioned insects and weasels swarming in as we slept. I thought the tree was enchanting. It was like staying in a tree house. My mother probably made us sleep in our clothes.


The room was clean and tidy; neat as a pin. I was intrigued by a mysterious metal box at the side of the double-bed. It had a coin slot, and I cajoled a coin from my dad. I experienced Magic Fingers® for the first time. The magic wore off quickly, but at least I had crossed another threshold in my life journey. No need to try this ever again.


The owners of the establishment were very nice people, and when we checked out the next morning they gave me a toy for my car ride. It was a thick cardboard clown head, brightly colored, with an attached ring on a string. The clown had a very long, upward curving nose. The idea was to swing the clown head by the handle to catch the ring on the clown's nose. I kept the souvenir toy long after we returned home.


A regular stop for us for an overnight stay on our Iowa trips was a huge Howard Johnson's Motor Lodge. It was anchored by the familiar orange-roofed office with adjacent restaurant, and had several buildings that contained the motel rooms. The establishment featured inside corridors that all led to the main building. The connecting links were plate glass which had been pasted with decals that looked like splatted eggs. I couldn't imagine why Howard Johnson intentionally decorated his motor inn to look like it had been visited by vandals. My father explained that these decals were an attempt to prevent birds from flying into the plate glass.


We usually had a room on the top floor, which meant we had a cathedral ceiling. My favorite thing about the room was the large switch panel between the two beds. The various switches would operate any light fixture in the room, as well as the television. I was a lazy child, and I thought this was a spectacular idea. The motel also featured an indoor/outdoor pool, and you could swim between one to the other by swimming underneath the huge glass window that separated the two. De-luxe!


As swank as the Howard Johnson's was compared to the tree-enhanced cabin court, it does not compare in splendor to The Grooviest Motel in Wisconsin. This was surely the zenith of the American Motel. You can click your way through the motel tour, and you won't want to miss a moment, believe me. This segment is part of James Lilek's larger Institute of Official Cheer. Be careful, you can get lost in there for days. Pack a lunch. Drop breadcrumbs.