PART 1,  part 2 will be posted next Wednesday, March 24th, 2021

Life has been particularly difficult and stressful in the last year. I’m completely swamped at work. My boss keeps assigning more and more work for me to complete in an already impossibly overcrowded schedule in my working twelve-hour days. And then I go home with two to three more hours of work to do. And forget about weekends, they ceased to have any meaning a long time ago.

I would have gone completely off the deep end except for the light at the end of the tunnel. I have a vacation coming up in one week, seven more days. And the best news of all is that I got a terrific deal on both the hotel and air costs.

Each day of the last week before my vacation I check off my calendar. And finally, tomorrow is the day I leave for my vacation. I’m so excited that my heart is beating faster because of the adrenalin rush. I went to bed early the night tonight before my trip but I can’t fall asleep I’m so excited. I packed my bags a week ago. I check and rechecked them to make sure I didn’t forget anything.

I arrive at the airport three hours early for my check-in. It’s a long wait for my plane to arrive for take-off. I drink so much coffee I have trouble sitting still. By the time the plane lands and was getting refueled and checked out, I was so high on caffeine I could probably fly without the plane by flapping my arms up and down,

It’s less than a two-hour flight. I’m jazzed when we arrive. I rented a car in advance and once we deplane, I pick up the keys. And I’m on my way to the Crepe Myrtle Lodge. It’s located outside the Boone, NC area in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The Blue Ridge Mountains are breathtakingly beautiful, the air is cool and invigorating. I can feel my mind and body start to relax. It takes me about three hours to drive to the hotel. I feel like a new man by the time I arrive there.

As I pull into the hotel parking lot, I realize that there aren’t any cars in sight. Oh well, I think everyone is probably up and about hiking and enjoying the beautiful landscape. The hotel advertises that the area has tons of activities like trout fishing, horseback riding, golf, and whitewater rafting. And it’s within minutes’ drive to Grandfather Mountain, Blowing Rock, and Caverns. And of course, the biggest draw, the lowest hotel rates in the area.

I rented a small studio since it was just me and I plan on spending most of my time hiking, and fishing, and investigating as much of the area I could in one week’s time. I get out of my compact car and walk towards a sign that says OFFICE. I yank on the door and find to my dismay that the door is locked. “Well, that’s weird,” I say out loud. I decide I’ll walk around the buildings and see if I can find the manager in one of the rooms or cabins.

No luck, I can see that some of the rooms or cabins are occupied because their curtains are closed. But, many of the rooms and small cabins aren’t occupied at all. And that’s strange because this is the time of the year when people come to this area in droves.

I can’t help but notice that the whole place is in disrepair. I have to say it a mess, trash on the grounds and spilling out of the trash bins. Some of the curtains on the hotel rooms are missing curtains or the curtains are hanging askew. There are cigarette butts everywhere. The more I look around the more anxious I become. I walk back over to the Office and yank on the doorknob, it’s still locked. I walk over to my car and prepare to wait for someone to show up. So I can check-in, unpack and unwind from my long ride and flight.

Two hours later I see a pick-up truck pulling into the parking spot in front of the Office. “Finally,’ I say out loud. I give him a minute or two to get into the office, turn on the lights. And then I walk over and yank on the door, and nearly dislocate my shoulder I pull it so hard. Unbelievably, the door is still locked. I yell out an expletive and start banging on the door when I realize no one is sitting at the desk. I keep banging until I see a middle-aged guy wearing a faded flannel shirt and beat-up jeans hanging in tatters coming to the door.

He looks at me through the window of the door. I try yelling, “My name is Joe Wadsworth. I have a reservation. He glares out at me, and finally opens the door. “What’s the problem, hold your horses already?”

“I have been waiting in my car for two hours to check-in. I confirmed my reservation and arrival time yesterday. I’m tired, I had a two-hour flight and drove three hours to get here.”

“There was a problem at one of the cabins, it was an emergency.”

“You have my cell phone number why didn’t you text me and let me know you weren’t going to be here?”

“As I said, it was an emergency. I didn’t have time to do that. Why don’t you calm down and come in and register?”

“Ok, fine, let’s do that. I’d like to take a shower and then get outside and start exploring the area. I don’t want to waste any more time. I’m only here for the week.”

He tosses the room key across the counter. I catch it before it flies off the counter. I stand there thinking, this guy is a complete ass. But I say, “thanks, is the room ready?” Do I need to get towels from you before I go to the room?

“Everything is ready, no problems, call the desk if you need anything.” Then the phone rings and he turns away from me. So, I walk back to my car and drive around looking for the studio. Which was supposed to be a small cabin with a kitchen and dining area and sleeping area. And have a couch and chair and working TV, and a bathroom with a shower.

After driving around in circles for several minutes I finally find my “studio.” I back my car up and park and start taking out my suitcase and fishing equipment and my hiking equipment, and jacket and my camera equipment. I grab my camera and take a picture of the studio. I’m dreading going in there because I just know that it will probably be disgustingly dirty.

It turns out that disgustingly dirty would be a step up from this dump. I unlock the door I realize that one of the door hinges is missing and the door is only attached by the bottom hinge. So, I quickly shove my suitcase up against the door so it doesn’t become detached altogether and fall on me. I pick up my gear and bring it into the studio.

And that is when the stench hit me full-force. It smells if a giant ashtray has been dumped multiple times in the space. I mean it absolutely reeks. I go over to the front wall to open the windows. As I pull the dingy curtains aside, I realize there are only about three curtain hooks holding it up. I try to carefully push it to the side and I realize there’s a huge hole in the curtain from what looks like a burn of some kind. As if someone put a cigarette to the curtain and burned it intentionally. I’m flabbergasted.

Only half of the glass panes in the windows have glass in them. And the ones that do have glass are cracked. Well, I say to myself at least I can air the room out. I look around the room and low and behold I see the kitchen area. I walk over there trying to keep my eyes straight ahead. I can’t take everything in at once or I will probably have a mental meltdown.

The kitchen area consists of a counter complete with cigarette burns and a dirty electric coffee pot. And one cracked coffee cup with a cigarette butt floating in the bottom in whatever liquid used to reside in the cup. I sniff it and if my nose is telling me the truth it’s piss.

There is a plate, a glass, and a set of plastic knives, and forks and spoons available, pre-used. I see a hot plate, I plug it in, the rings start getting how and then smoke appears. I unplug it. Then I see the “refrigerator.” I open it up. It isn’t cold and only big enough to put a hamburger and a coke in there. That is if it were working. Which it’s not.

There is a small table and chair. The chair only has three legs. So that should be challenging to sit on. I’m somewhat reluctant to look into the bathroom. I push forward because I have never been afraid to face anything. But even I must admit there’s a limit to the horror that I can take in one day.

There is a standing shower. It looks like a coffin standing on end. Its shower curtain is only wide enough to cover one-half of the entrance of the shower. And it has a tear running across the middle horizontally. There are no words to describe the condition of the bottom of the shower. It would be best if I describe it as beyond filthy and it smells like someone recently took a dump in it and vomited simultaneously. I’m serious.

I step backward out of the shower coffin area and back towards the open space to look at the sleeping area. I bravely move forward. I have to admit this has now become morbid curiosity at this point. I can not imagine worse than I have already witnessed.

The bed is actually a folding cot circa WWII. I kid you not. I know because when I was a kid my great grandfather passed away. And my grandfather took me to his father’s house to help clean it out and possibly take away a souvenir if I found something I liked. My grandfather was something of a collector of sorts. Other people might call him a hoarder.

Suffice it to say that my grandfather never threw anything out. And while I was rooting through his attic, I found his folding cot from WWII. And the cot I was looking in this moment bears a striking resemblance to my grandfather’s. On top of the “bed” is a pillow so flat it no longer fits the description of pillow. And there’s a blanket that probably was the original blanket from the WWII cot. I let out another expletive. I didn’t have the courage or the fortitude to look any further.

I double-time it to the door and as I was departing, I slam the door so hard that it falls off its’ hinge. I don’t even look back. I march up to the office door and find it’s once again locked. I start hammering on the door with closed fists. I can not recall ever being this angry in my life. I know I’m out of control but feel it’s righteous anger. I also know if I don’t calm down I will either kill the owner or have a heart attack right here at the door of this shitty hotel. I ask myself, “is this where you want to die?” And I say to myself, “it might be worth it.”

After about three minutes the sleazy low-life manager comes to the door. “What do you want now?’

“What do I want? What do I want? I want a clean room with a door with two hinges and intact windows and curtains. And if it’s not too much to ask, a real bed, a clean bathroom with a clean shower and toilet. And a room that doesn’t smell like someone died there after a prolonged illness. Can I get that buddy?”

He gives me a long, long look and say’s, “So, you’re saying you’ re dissatisfied with your accommodations. Is that it?”

I think for a moment that my head might actually explode. I stand there with my mouth hanging open. I take a deep breath and spit out. “Yes, and that is the understatement of a lifetime. I want I different, better room or I want a complete refund for my money and my deposit. Right now, not in five minutes, right now this second.”

It‘s at that moment that I realize this guy is chewing tobacco, as a brown liquid comes oozing out of his food encrusted lips and over his dark brown teeth. I feel my stomach lurch.

“OK, here are the keys to a room with a bathroom with a shower, and tub, single bed, table and chair and TV but we don’t get cable so it has limited channels but no kitchen area.”

“Is it clean? Does it have curtains and intact windows? Does it smell like an ashtray?”

“It was cleaned yesterday, new curtains and all windows intact and it is a non-smoking room. But it will cost you $10.00 more each day.”

My first impulse was to punch him right in his ugly kisser, but I control myself. “OK, if everything is as you described, I’ll take it. If you lied, I will come back here with a bad attitude and kick your ass. Do you understand buddy?”

He works his jaw and another line of tobacco juice escape between his missing teeth. He wipes the back of his left hand across his mouth and swallows. He hands me the key, and says, “it’s on the other side of the building and then he walks away and spits on the floor. I hear him plop in a chair and turn up his TV.

As I leave the office, I contemplate how such a being exists in the world. And then I realize there are thousands, if not millions of bottom feeders such as this guy. I shake my head and look for the room. This whole place is an absolute maze with no rhyme or reason to how the it’s organized. After about ten minutes of walking around the maze of rooms, cabins, and even a few broken down trailers I find it. It’s at the end of a long line of rooms. I consider the horror I might encounter and take a deep, deep breath of fresh air and unlock the door. The door creaks as it opens, but on the plus side it doesn’t fall off the hinges.

I step into the room and to my utter surprise it isn’t the completely filthy pit I expected it too be. It’s not even close to neat and tidy either. I close the door behind me and walk over to the bed. It has a double bed which is miles ahead of a folding cot from WWII. It has two pillows, a sheet and a thin blanket. Someone else probably slept in by last week, but still, I’ll take it over the cot. I take a sniff of the air and the sheets, not too terrible.

I look under the bed, just dust. I walk across the room and open the bathroom door. There’s a shower and tub with a sliding glass door. I open the door, not clean but not filthy, no roaches running around in there. The toilet wasn’t flushed last couple of times it was used, so I close the lid and flush it.

The next time I go out I decide I’ll buy some clean sheets and some towels since the bathroom has no towels, soap and some room deodorizer and cleanser. It’s not the room I thought I would stay in for my one and only vacation this year. But I hope I ‘ll be spending most of my time in the great outdoors and not in this stinking want-a-be Bates Motel.

I head out to the car to get some supplies and something to eat. But first I change into my hiking boots and clothes. I should have broken the boots in before I got here. But I didn’t. I put on an extra pair of socks to protect my feet. I bring along an extra jacket just in case it’s colder than predicted.

Against my better judgement I go back to the hotel office to see if they have any pamphlets or handouts of any kind for local places to eat. Of course. When I get to office the door was locked again. I get back in my car and turn on my cellphone and ask google maps for local restaurants.

I end up buying lunch at a local take-out for Chinese food. It isn’t half bad. So, I tell the guy at the counter I’ll be back around 6PM to pick up dinner. He’s pleasant enough. They also have some pamphlets on a rack with local sites and activities which I appreciate. I should have planned what I was going to do at home before I got here. But I didn’t, that’s on me. I tend to be somewhat of a procrastinator that’s how I ended up at the hotel. I wait too long to make reservations and they were the only ones to have any openings. And now I know why. Live and learn, I guess. I stop at a nearby Dollar Store and buy my supplies plus a few snacks and a paperback novel to read since I just realized there wasn’t any TV in the room. Oh boy, that’s a real shocker. Yeah, right. And then I’m on my way.

I take the Blue Ridge Parkway to Grandfather Mountain. And I have to admit that this is some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen and I have traveled a lot over the years. Grandfather Mountain is my destination today because it’s only about ten minutes away. The speed limit is twenty-five miles per hour along the parkway so I have time to take in this magnificent area. I arrive and decide that I will park my car and hike the four-mile train to the top.

I have to admit I’m somewhat out of shape and the air becomes thinner the closer I get to the top. Still, I’m determined to do it. When I arrive, there’s quite a crowd because people took the shuttle up. As I stand there drinking in the view, I realize that I have forgotten my camera equipment. I could just kick myself. I consider hiking down and getting my camera gear and then coming back up. But I realize how tired I am after the plane ride, driving to the hotel and putting up with all the malarkey at the hotel.

I decide to look around the whole area and scope out where I’ll like to take my shots when I return here. Once again realizing how disorganized I am. I’m going to have to work on that. My next stop is the-Mile-High Swinging Bridge. The reason I chose this as one of my destinations is because one of my life-long fears has been bridges. You may be asking yourself the question than why go to the mountains and then cross a mile-high bridge. Well, the fact is I’m trying to overcome some of my fears and anxiety.

When I was a young child perhaps five years old, I was in a car going over The Ben Franklin Bridge from New Jersey to Philadelphia, Pa. I was sitting on my mother’s lap. I guess I was leaning against the door as we drove slowly across the bridge and the door wasn’t locked or closed properly. And then it suddenly flew open and I fell out of the car and onto the bridge. My father slammed the brakes and ran over and picked me up and put me in the back seat. Yelling the whole time at me, telling me how I almost killed myself. And since that day I have been fearful of heights and bridges. So, here I am thirty years later, on my way to cross the Mile-High- Swinging Bridge.

I see all kinds of people walking towards, and across the bridge, young and old. I take a deep, deep breath and start walking ever closer to it. And then I see the bridge is right in front of me. I walk onto the bridge. I grab ahold of the railing and I look down, down, down. My head is swimming, I hear ringing in my ears. For an awful moment I’m afraid I just might fall. And then I have a moment when I feel like launching myself off the bridge. My heart is beating like a drum and my pulse is rapid, I can’t catch my breathe. And then the moment passes. I had this feeling before and I know that it is a common experience. I step back and start laughing for a moment. I notice several people are staring at me. And inexplicably I say,” Don’t worry I’m not going to kill myself.” And then I laugh again. All but one of the people laugh uncomfortably and walk away from me. One woman says,” are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to freighted anyone. It was just a weird impulse. I’m working on overcoming my fear of heights.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, thank you I’m fine.” And she goes on her way and when she gets to the other side of the bridge. She looks back at me. She’s gesturing for me to come to the other side. I wave at her and start slowing walking to the other side. I stop in the middle of the bridge and look down. The view’s amazing. And then I continue to the other side and where she’s waiting for me.

“Congratulations you made it. Isn’t it beautiful here?”

“Yes, thank you. It’s stunning.” I smile from ear to ear. She smiles back, and that is when I notice that she’s beautiful with gorgeous red hair. I’ve always been a sucker for redheads. I decide to take a chance and ask her out. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yes, and believe it or not this is the first vacation I’ve taken by myself. So, I guess I have something to prove as well. Are you here alone?”

“Yes, I’m sorry what’s your name?”

“My name is Joe Wadsworth. What’s your name?”

My name is Emily Van Patten. So, do you have any plans for dinner, Joe? Because I know of a fabulous restaurant nearby. If you would like to meet-up?” I hope that doesn’t sound too pushy?”

“No, not at all. That’s sounds great. What time would you like to meet?”

“How about around 6:30. It’s a casual place so no need to dress up. Here ‘is my cell phone number if something comes up and here is the address. I’ll see you at 6:30.”

I look at her and smile ear to ear and she smiles back. “Great, I’ll see you then.”

And she goes on her way. I stand at the end of the bridge and look at the beautiful valley below and think, maybe my luck is changing. I start walking forward on my trek. I start walking onward and upward as I admire the bounty of multi-colored Fall leaves. I have to admit Fall is my favorite season, the wonderful foliage, the cool, crisp weather.

And then as I’m contemplating all this beauty, I see something moving across the path or should I say slithering. I’m ashamed to say it, but I have a fear of snakes, I don’t know why since I never really encountered one or bitten. But still, I’m terrified of them. I decide to wait until it leaves the area. I hope it’s not a poisoness ’snake, that’s all I need. It looks like it could be a Copperhead, or possibly be a Corn Snake. Which can look similar if it flattens its head and then resembles a Copperhead. I wait and I wait some more. I can’t help but think maybe I shouldn’t have taken this trip alone. But here I am, and decide I’m going to make the best of it, instead of quitting as I usually do when I get frustrated.

The snake finally moves out of sight. And I continue you down the path. I take a couple of steps forward and then trip on my own shoe lace. It apparently came untied at some point. As I lean down to retire my hiking boot, I feel something latch onto my ankle. I look. And I see to my horror snake has its teeth firmly attached to my ankle and is trying to constrict around my ankle. Momentarily I feel as if I might faint. I try to relax since I read the worse thing you can do with a corn snake is try to pull it off since its teeth latch on and they are slanted backward.

I try to remember what I’m supposed to do. And then I remember you’re supposed to pour something ice cold on it and the snake will release its grip. I grab my backpack and look for my thermos that is filled with ice water. I calmly pour the ice water over the snake. In a few minutes that seem like a week to me the snake releases its grip and unwinds off my ankle and once again slithers away. I lean down and look at my ankle and I see the fang marks and a few drops of blood. I grab my pack and find my first aide supply kit. I disinfect it and slap a band aide on it. I promise myself I will be more aware of my surroundings. Still, I count myself lucky that it wasn’t a copperhead. I keep moving forward.

I keep following the trail for another half-hour. I stop and take a drink from my pack. And take another look all around me. I realize that I feel relaxed and happy, despite the snake bite. I lean down and take a look at my ankle and it’s a little sore, but I think its going to be alright. I was lucky, this time.

 

 

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