Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Just say no to the Shiloh Inn in Nampa, Idaho

The whole Utah clan drove to Idaho this weekend to be with Jon and Julie when they had Liam blessed in sacrament meeting.  We wanted cheap.  We should raise our standards by about ten bucks.  The Shiloh Inn (not to be confused with the Shiloh Suites, which is newer and nicer) was
one of the top five rattiest places we have ever stayed.  Keep in mind that we have stayed in whore houses across Europe.  Just because it's a "pension" in the daytime doesn't mean it's a "pension" at night.  One of them had carpets on the BEDS.

Anyhoo, this particular Shiloh Inn's exterior was rotting.  We were greeted by four wranglers smoking at the entrance, each in varying states of decay.  They were there when we left for dinner, and they were there when we returned.  In the morning they were still there.  The room had a masking floral scent, but masking what?  Semen?  Armpit hair?  Pee? Ear wax? Sloughed off dead skin?  Ailing maggots? Blood? Boogers?

Yes.  All of the above.  One didn't want to walk barefoot on that carpet.   The above photo is exactly the way our room looked except for an added one hundred years of fading, body fluids, and a poof of aerosol.

Sunday morning we were ready to go forty minutes before church started at nine AM.  Tom was blessing the baby, an important role.  We were dressed like the respectable old folks that we are, raised in the fifties and early sixties: pantyhose and all.  Not Tom.  He only wears pantyhose on Wednesday nights.

Tom unlocks the deadbolt, but the door doesn't open.  He tries again.  No go.  I try.  No.  He tries.  No, no and no.

He calls the front desk and explains that we are locked into our room.  A woman comes with a key to get us out, but it doesn't work.  Tom calls the front desk again.  "I have an important appointment at nine.  We need to be out of here in ten minutes!"  

He calls back in ten minutes.  "Don't you have a screwdriver?"  His voice is menacing.

"Yes, it's in the maintenance room, but only the maintenance man can get in there, and he's on his way now."

I think Tom's head will explode, and I go to a zen place, which means staring at a dot and listening to my own breathing. 

At nine, the maintenance man arrives with a screwdriver, slips it under the door, and Tom unscrews the deadbolt.  We get there two minutes before the sacrament is over.

Tom gives a lovely blessing.  We have lunch at Jonathan's.  (I still want that chicken salad recipe)  and we all drive home in heavy rain.

Do not even THINK about bringing up the pioneers to me. 


Kerry said...

oh, but the *charm*...

BBB said...

Oh ugh. I still remember in class you telling us the number one way people get lice is at movie theaters. I think about it every time we go to a movie. Sometimes even in the middle of the movie... 'I might be getting lice... right now... while James Bond jumps off the roof of that building.'

Louise Plummer said...

I only think of lice when I'm at the Tower Theater which hasn't been cleaned since Tom and I had our first date there forty-six years ago.

Emily said...

Ha! Ha Ha Ha! It makes for good writing though.

My secret ingredient (from my mom) for chicken salad: fresh tarragon. It is awesome. You know, the basic chicken salad, only instead of celery add sliced red grapes, lots of sweet onion, and lots of fresh tarragon. Awesome.

When you get your the chicken salad recipe, please post it here. I would like to try it too.

Marcia said...

blood, urine, semen/motel rooms; head lice/movie theaters

I can feel myself slipping into the 'Monk' part of my brain as I read and type.

I don't see a vacation or trip to the big screen anywhere in my near future.

Katy said...

I began nervously pinching my neck meat at the sight of that motel room. It reminded me of when we were in Mexico, and my children and I were swimming in our hotel's jacuzzi. That all ended when we found a condom stuck to my shoulder. I went to my room and called the front desk. They couldn't understand a word that I was saying.

I loved this post, especially your zen moment.

Bonnie Tonita White said...

My daughter Mercedes introduced me to your blog. I have some questions about Europe's hotels - you sound experienced - I have some questions about some books that you could recommend for our book group - something that will stir it up - we are all way too complacent.

Louise Plummer said...

Neck meat. My favorite.

I like the sound of tarragon for the chicken salad.

Book suggestion #! for stirring it up. Sue Miller's THE SENATOR'S WIFE. As for hotels in Europe, I don't think I've ever stayed in one I could recommend. Oh yes, one night in Holland, we shot the moon and then went back to our usual cheap digs.

I've been reading Anthony Trollope myself. Hilarious.

dede said...

Which is exactly why we only stay at "nicer" places.

This story gives me the willys!

ann cannon said...

I'm . . . speechless. Wow.

Robin said...

Ah...Beautiful Nampa Idaho. I'm heading to Boise this weekend - thanks for the warning.

Robin said...

Emily! Terragon chicken salad is totally mine! Mom got it from me. I see how you used it to get all buddy buddy with Louise. Now how am I going to be her favorite? waa.

And - you add a little cream to the mayo - it makes the salad delicious!

Richardson's B.L.A.H.S. said...


I'm glad you made it though!

Emily said...

I thought it was MOM'S!

FIRST to comment wins. You snooze, you LOSE!

MUHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! (Louise is going to love me most, neener!)

Rachel said...

Just say no to the un-Super 8 in San Diego as well. Scary! We tried to be budget and needless to say I wouldn't walk on the carpet there either, bugs, etc. Also what makes a hotel owner think they can make a room nice just by putting granite in an already shoddy bathroom?

Kristen said...

I decided long ago that $10-$20 more a night is well worth it for a decent sleep and comfortable stay.

Next time, let me know you are coming and you can stay at my house and swim in my pool and it will be FUN!

Besides that, I will make you the fabulous Tarragon Chicken Salad, that my two sisters, Emily and Robin stole from me. :)