SEBRING, FLORIDA

SEBRING FLORIDA

By Duncan 

Let me think about how and why this stop is important. 

If you have been following along, you know I have been on a road trip that started in Indianapolis, including London, North Carolina, Jacksonville, Hollywood, North Fort Myers, and Cape Coral. I'm headed to Sebring, Florida, for my next adventure. 

My first marriage ended in the late 1980s. The details might be interesting to some, but what would finger-pointing solve? All the fingers would point at me, and my actions were why I found myself single again. 

I decided to give marriage another try. It's interesting wading through the needs, wants, and desires of a woman who wants her marriage ceremony to be special. I have to ask myself, isn’t that true for all women? 

We were married. One afternoon, I returned to our apartment and found my blushing bride on the floor with the wedding proofs from the photographer on the living room floor. She was crying, and she was very unhappy with the pictures. 

I tried consoling her by saying, "Honey, they are good, fine, great." 

She was having none of it. "You take better pictures than this guy." 

I was an amateur photographer with a black-and-white dark room. Yes, I was using film back then. Digital cameras did not exist at that point. I would take pictures, head to the dark room, and give my black-and-white prints away as a gift. It was my hobby. 

It didn't dawn on me that she was serious until she came home one afternoon and said, 

"We're in the wedding photography business. I've been talking to a girl at work who needs a photographer. I told her we could photograph her wedding."  

This was a huge surprise to me. I had no idea how to photograph a wedding, what to charge, or what camera equipment I would need. The day came, and I was a nervous wreck. 

After the ceremony, I took my film to the drugstore and waited for the results. I was not impressed with my work. I slipped the photographs into an inexpensive wedding album and presented them to the bride. 

The bride loved them, Mom was happy, and everyone was delighted—except me. I couldn’t believe they all liked the pictures. I needed help; I had another wedding to shoot. 

I searched for information about Professional Photographers. I noticed a group called The Professional Photographers of Indianapolis meeting monthly at a nearby hotel. I decided to attend the meeting, even though I would likely not be allowed to participate.  

I walked down the hotel corridor and found a convention room full of people standing around talking with drinks in their hands. I stood in the doorway, frozen in fear. 

A woman in the middle of the room looked up and noticed me at the double doors. She walked to me and asked, 

"Can I help you? What are you looking for?" 

"I was looking for the Professional Photographers meeting." 

"You would be in the right place. Are you a professional photographer?" 

"No, I'm an amateur and need help photographing weddings." 

"Have you photographed a wedding?" 

"Yes, just one."

"Did you get paid?" 

"Yes."

"Then you are a professional. What is your name?"

This woman grabbed my arm. "My name is Nancy Bailey; come sit next to me. We need to talk." 

Everything I know about "professional wedding photography" has come from Nancy over the last thirty years. She is considered a total professional throughout Indiana and the United States. She judges contests and speaks to groups all the time. I'm honored to call her my friend. 

Nancy Bailey - Professional Photographer

So, when Nancy found out I was going to be in Florida, she said, "You are stopping by Sebring and having lunch with me, right?" 

And how could I refuse a request like that? 

As expected, the trip from Cape Coral took a little over two hours. I arrived in Sebring, which is in the middle of Florida. I pulled into Haammock Estates, looking for her home. 

I needed some clarification about the housing addition. They spell the Retirement Village two different ways: HAAMMOCK and HAMMOCK. Everything in town is spelled Hammock. Hammock Park, Hammock Street. So, I can only assume the sign company  “Larry, Larry, and Darryl Sign Company” installed the sign. I can only imagine the questions at the HOA monthly meeting.  

I found the entrance to the addition and drove down the street to find the address. Nancy was outside waiting for me to arrive. The first thing she did was introduce me to her neighbors.

Next-door neighbor Phil. 

Next-door neighbor Carolyn, 

Alan, and Nancy Bailey-Pratt. 

On the front porch of Phil and Carolyn’s home. 

A quick tour of the Baily-Pratt home gave me a little look at their lifestyle. 

The kitchen at the Pratt home. 

Then, it was time for lunch. Nancy decided to take me to what is considered the historic section of Sebring. Sebring was founded by George Sebring, an Ohio industrialist, in 1912.  

Archival records indicate that George Sebring’s “Circle Plan” for the downtown area was based on the design of Heliopolis, an ancient Egyptian city. George’s idea was that all roads should radiate from the center of the community. 

Which has the same street layout as Washington D.C., and Indianapolis. So, it was off to the downtown area of Sebring. The population of Sebring is about 12,000 people. That small-town feel makes you slow down and enjoy life. 

We ended up at Dee’s Place, which has been in business for more than 22 years. It’s a small breakfast restaurant that serves breakfast and lunch and closes at 2:00 PM.

Dee Andrew - owner Dee’s Place - Sebring, Florida

Lacey was our waitress. 

Lacey told us that Dee Andrews keeps a low profile. I asked how it all started. Lacey said when Dee was 14 years old, she worked for a woman named Paige Brooker. 

“I guess she saw something in me and taught me all the important things about the restaurant business.” 

Dee managed the restaurant when she was a high school senior. Then, when Dee stopped working for Paige Brooker, she worked at another restaurant. In 1992, Dee decided she could run her restaurant and opened Dee’s Place. 

Dee Andress 

When asked what she likes about running a restaurant, Dee quickly says, “I like the people. You know, you have good days and bad days, but the people are what makes it work.” 

Dee said, “If you are called to do it, do it. Give it a try because you’ll never know if it was meant to be if you don’t try.”  

NANCY BAILEY-PRATT, DUNCAN - Lunch, Dee’s Place, Sebring. 

This is an interesting story, much like my own with Nancy. If I had not shot that first wedding with blind faith, I could have pulled it off, and then, knowing I needed help, I would have never attended a professional photographer's meeting and met Nancy. 

When I think of the people who have given me a boost and shared information and knowledge, I would not be the guy I am today. Let’s call it the circle of life. If you have been there and done that and are asked to mentor, do it! 

You end up with some great friends.

MAGNOLIA LANDING

MAGNOLIA LANDING 

By Duncan

Spring Break, 2010, I’m  looking at the Atlantic Ocean from a 9th floor balcony, in Pompano Beach, Florida. The weather is fantastic, the air is clean, fresh, the breeze cool and refreshing. My Indiana winter clothes are gone. I’m wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and flip flops. There came a point when I ask myself,     

WHY CAN’T I LIVE LIKE THIS EVERYDAY? 

One should never ask themselves a question like that, when “one” is on their third glass of red-wine. And the answer to the question is, I can live anywhere I want!  All I need to do is decide. I simply had to decide? Is this lifestyle what I really want at this point in my life? 

It’s not as easy a decision as you might think. First and foremost, what about family? How are they going to feel about me moving a thousand miles away? I would have to leave my job, when do I tell them I am leaving? (If I do leave) How long would it take to sell my home? (If I decided to move.)

As I’m sipping a cheap bottle of “red” from my stemmed glass, more and more questions keep coming to mind. The reality of moving to Florida has never crossed my mind. I was stationed in Homestead, Florida for three years with the United States Air Force back in the 60’s. Homestead was south of Miami and north of the Florida Keys. 

But I don’t remember thinking I want to live in Florida the rest of my life. As I recall, I could not get out of Florida fast enough. Or was it, I wanted to be unshackled from the rules and regulations of the Strategic Air Command, SACs spit and polish military life style. Well, whether I wanted to get military over with or I wanted to get back to civilian life, living in Florida was not on the bucket list during the 60’s. 

Duncan - Jack Maynard - Tampa, Florida

Sure, I vacationed in Florida from time to time. My very close and personal friend, Jack Maynard and his wife Martha moved to Tampa from Indianapolis and invited me to come down during New Year to visit them for a few days. That was the early 2000s. But again, while I looked forward to my yearly Tampa visits, I had no desire to move to Florida full time. So, why all of sudden do I consider living in Florida important now? 

There might be several factors that come into play when thinking about moving to Florida. One, could be the weather. No, I’m not talking about the Florida weather, but the Indiana weather. At some point, I became really tired of cold weather. The weather seemed to wear me down. It’s depressing at times. Overcast most of January and February, cold, and wind. Another way of saying it is, I made the Indiana winters a bigger deal than what the Indiana weathers are. From November to April, I convinced myself I was done with winter. One of my justifications for thinking about moving to Florida. 

The other reason to move to Florida is not as clear. Could it have been the idea of “starting a new life” in a new place. Could it be the pioneering spirit deep down in my gut? I didn’t realize at the time, I might be deranged. You know, load up the buckboard and push the team of horses to a new land? I guess “derangement” could be part of the reason I wanted to move to Florida.

During the summer of 2012, I drove to Florida to figure out where to live. There was a community I was told to check out by several people, including my own son, Scott. I was told I needed to visit The Villages. So, I drove down, and I rented a Villa in The Villages. I approached a Realtor to get a feel for the homes for sale. 

Looking back, I was very impressed with the place. I was thinking, “This is the place for me.” But as a year dragged on, I got to reading about The Villages and started to get cold feet about living there. The following year I decided that if I was going to live in Florida I needed to be as far south and as close to the water as I could afford. 

I started looking at homes for sale in different places on-line. I drove down again and went up and down the west coast. From Marco Island, north through Naples, Cape Coral, Fort Myers, North Fort Myers, Punta Gorda, all the way up to Venice. I decided that Fort Myers was about as close to Indianapolis as it gets. I contacted a Realtor and was introduced to Magnolia Landing, in North Fort Myers. 

It was a brand new home. Just built, and the people who built it decided to pull out at the last minute. I was shown the home and loved it. So, I made the big “decision” to buy it. I was taking care of my aging father, and had to figure out how to get George to Florida too. The home had three bedrooms and a library. Perfect for my father and ourselves. Life is good. 

From 2014 to 2019 I lived in North Fort Myers. I was blessed with lots of friends. During this period, Dad passed in 2018, and in 2019, I made the decision to return to Indianapolis. Yes, all the things I complained about in Indianapolis, I was returning to restart my life all over again.

I never thought I would be returning to Florida. Little did I realize that my Florida friends would say, “Hey if you're in the area, stop by and let’s party.” I received enough “Let’s party” invitations so I decided to return for short visits in January or February. Now it’s almost an annual tradition. Hey, doors open and all I do is walk through the doors. 

The Front Gate at Magnolia Landing 

I approached the gate guard in my “Mean Yellow” and I was an instant give-a-way. 

“Duncan, are you back for good or are you here for a visit.” 

The gate cross bar went up and I was once again in Magnolia Landing headed for Tom Morookian’s home. I consider Magnolia Landing a special place. I spent five years of my life in this place. I took care of my father till he reached ninety-nine. He passed peacefully in our home. He asked me not to put him in a nursing home and I was pleased to be able to meet his wishes. So, Magnolia Landing is special to me. 

Now, it’s time to live my life. I don’t know when it happened, but I became the parent and dad became the “child.” It’s interesting what passes through your mind when your father passes before your eyes. You know it’s coming, and the Last couple of days happen fast. Did I do everything I could for my father, did I tell him enough he was loved. Yes, there are some good memories in Magnolia Landing. 

I pulled up in front of Tom’s home and there were lots of cars sitting on the curb. The garage door is open, so I walk into the home unannounced. Lo and behold there is a birthday party in progress. 

 

Danielle Lecavalier, Gerry Lecavlier, Mark Robinson, Tom Morookian, Cherish. 

Mark Robinson at the head of the table, is in Florida because his father Gary Robinson passed and is taking care of his arrangements. Gary Robinson (Mark’s Dad) was very close to Tom Morookian. It’s Mark's birthday, thus the birthday party. Danielle and Gerry were also very close friends. Cherish was Gary’s home caretaker. She was with Gary at the end of Gary’s life. Yes, I also knew Gary, and we had lunch together many times. 

This party went into the wee hours of the morning. Tomorrow we will pick up the story of Magnolia Landing. I’ll be here for a couple of days, maybe longer than the “Three Day Rule.” We have new restaurants to visit and other gated communities to see.   

NORTH FORT MYERS

NORTH FORT MYERS 

By Duncan 

When the words "North Fort Myers" come up in a conversation, I smile. I lived the dream from 2014-2019. North Fort Myers is like a second home to me.  

And when I left North Fort Myers, in October of 2019, I assumed I would never return. I don't know why I assumed I would never go back for a visit. The world is smaller today than yesterday. It's not a challenge to travel around the country like it used to be. 

To drive for a couple of hours is not the daunting task it used to be. When I left Hollywood, at about noon, I checked the GPS and it gave me an estimate of a couple of hours to arrive in North Fort Myers. 

It's an easy drive across the Everglades. Unless you're squeamish about alligators, pythons, and other wet green things that want to eat you. Be prepared to pay $3.75 to use this toll road. There's no commerce on this road between the East and West side of Florida. 

For the next 110 miles, there are no gas stations, and no restaurants. Nothing. Unless it's late at night and your car stops running. 

At that point your cell phone is your best friend. You need a cell phone to call “Mr. Road Ranger." Getting out of the car in the middle of the night you might be greeted by long green slithering things. There is a reason they call this toll road Alligator Alley.

As I came off "The Alley," (In broad daylight) it spills onto I-75 North. Naples, Florida is at the end of the toll road on the west side of Florida. 

I haven’t had anything to eat today. So, I looked at each exit I passed for a restaurant I could live with. 

It's a quarter to three, (Sounds like a Frank Sinatra Song) in the afternoon. I want something to eat. I notice the highway signs indicate there is an I-Hop at the next exit. 

I don't eat at I-Hop all that often. I assume it's an inexpensive place to get what might be called an American meal. Or, they offer an American Menu.  

As I entered the restaurant, there was a woman with four kids, ages 2-5 years old in front of me. The dining room only had about three tables of customers. The young man seated the family with kids in a booth on the far left in the back. He came forward to seat me and took me to the booth next to the family he had just seated. 

Now, I have a dilemma. I don't want to be seated in an empty dining room next to a bunch of children. Why can't I be seated across the room away from the maddening chatter. I stood and looked at the table, the family in the next booth, and then at the young man.  

I wanted to say in my most sarcastic voice, "Really?" 

The young man started to move away toward the front of the store. I held up my index finger as if to say, "Just a second." 

I whisper to the young man, I had phone calls to make, and I don't want to disturb this family with any profanity. Is there another area that would be better suited for me to have a private conversation on my phone? 

He picked up the menu and walked me to the other side of the restaurant. He hesitated before he left my table. 

"Is this table okay with you?" 

I detected a note of sarcasm in his voice. I smiled and said, 

"You will be richly compensated for your discretion."  

I found myself far away from the "children." My waiter was the same person who seated me. He came back with a little different attitude. I ordered breakfast. Orange Juice, two over easy, bacon, hash browns, and English muffin. 

With everyone complaining about the cost of food these days, I'm going to give you a run down on my I-Hop meal. The Orange Juice, $3.99. Quick 2 Egg, $10.39. Total $15.88. Other than the OJ, which I personally believe was  extravagantly overpriced, who can complain? 

These multi-million dollar buildings that franchisees build, have to pay debt service to the bank who financed the building. And the only way they can do that is to make a profit. 

Then they hand over the operation to young people, with little or no training to keep the place afloat. Yes, there are good servers. And in today’s workplace there are servers that wish they had not taken the job. 

If the restaurant is slow, and I ask the waitress how long he/she has been working in the place, and if he/she says, “3-6 weeks.” And, if I see that the place is void of activity, it makes common sense. The staff working for tips can’t make a living. The wait staff will come and go. 

It’s basic math. A waiter/waitress serves five tables during lunch. She turns the table two times. That's 10 tables during her shift. If the food purchased is $15.00 per person at lunch, and he/she had 30 people he/she served, during her shift.

Let’s say, (30 people times $15.00 meals = $450.00.) A tip of 10% equals $45.00. A tip of 20% equals $90.00. On a good day a shift at an I-Hop could be a $100.00 payday?  $100.00 times five days a week equals $500.00.  $500.00 times 52 weeks $26,000 a year.         

I also try to look at the parking lot before I choose a restaurant. If it’s full of cars, chances are a lot of people like the place. If there are no cars, it’s an indication of a couple of negative factors. The location sucks. The service sucks, or the food sucks. Or all three suck! 

Another factor to consider is which shift is the staff working? Breakfast, lunch, dinner or the midnight shift? It could make a difference. 

I have no idea what it costs to build one of these beautiful buildings. I checked my cell phone and found the construction cost of an I-Hop restaurant is between one to three million dollars, depending on the size and location of the restaurant. Folks we are near Naples, Florida. 

Let’s say, a couple of million on average. I-Hop was founded in 1958 and has 1,700 restaurants. The corporation that owns the I-Hop’s LOGO is Dine Brands Gogal, Inc. 

It also owns Applebee’s, and Fuzzy’s Taco Shops. I have never heard of Fuzzy’s Taco Shops. I’m thinking, Fuzz on my Taco? I would have loved to be in the room when the great minds of the corporation came up with that name.  

Ninety-nine percent (99%) of I-Hops are franchise owned. Which means the person or persons owning the restaurant are more than likely someone who lives close by. They are not owned by the corporation. So what on average does an I-Hop franchisee make a year?

A quick scan of my phone says on average about one and a half million dollars. ($1,500,000) The average income for a restaurant owner is $72,600. Expressed as a percentage, 3-5%. 

Looking a little deeper, which fast food restaurants make the most money a year per store? 

Chick-fil-A -       $6.7 million. 

Raising Canes - $5.4 million.

Shake Shack  -  $3.8 million.

Whataburger  - $3.7 million.  

McDonald’s  -    $3.6 million. 

Good night, it seems to me that playing the stock market is an easier way to earn a return on investments without all the hassle of an I-Hop franchise. But, what do I know?  

Let me enjoy my booth a little longer. I’m living in tall cotton here. I get to sit in a multi-million dollar building for an hour, and have someone in the kitchen fix my meal and a waiter brings it to my table. I will enjoy my meal, while being a thousand miles from home. 

I understand I’ve gotta pay extra for the low lights, a table cloth, polished silverware and candles. But, I’m on my side of the room, away from the children in the booth on the other side of the room. Aren't road trips great?  

Okay, it’s time for the last leg of today’s road trip. I will head north, from Naples up I-75 to a North Fort Myers exit. I’m going to stay with Tom Morookian, in a gated community called Magnolia Landing. Yes, the same community I lived in for five years. 

MAGNOLIA LANDING - NORTH FORT MYERS

MAGNOLIA LANDING FRONT GATE

LONDON

 LONDON 

By Duncan 

I’ve been on a road trip. This time, instead of a “Three Day Road Trip,” I decided on a two-week road trip. 

So, I return with lots of stories. Some interesting and some not so interesting. You will, of course, decide which is which. Let me begin by telling you how this two-week extravaganza all started. 

I received a text from an old motorcycle buddy (Rodney “Digital” Myers) who texted me and said … 

“Why is it that you have lunch with everyone else except me?” 

“Rodney, I’ll have lunch with you; where are you?” 

“London.”

“London? London where?” 

“New London, North Carolina.” 

(By the way, folks, I have not been on a Honda Gold Wing motorcycle since 2008.) 

Of course, the first thing that entered my mind was, You want me to drive from Indianapolis to North Carolina to have lunch with you? I asked Google how many miles it was to New London, North Carolina. Google says six hundred miles or about ten hours. 

 

Now, anyone in their right mind would say, “Hey, that’s too far to go for lunch.” But before I open my mouth, I need a little more information. I looked at the population of New London. Needless to say, I have never heard of New London, North Carolina. I’ve heard of Charlotte, Asheville with the Biltmore Home, Huntsville, and Chapel Hill. The population of New London is 641 people. No wonder I have never heard of New London. 

I went on streets and maps and looked around New London. There are lots of churches and a couple of gas stations. I didn’t see any restaurants except a bait shop. My right eyebrow raised slightly. Hum? Where do we have lunch? The bait shop? So I texted Rodney back and asked, 

“Excuse me, Dig, if I come to New London, where do we “do” lunch?” 

“We would need to go to Mount Gilead, a few miles away. Oh, Duncan, we live in the Bible Belt down here, and most restaurants are closed on Sundays. Do you know what day you are planning on coming?”

What day am I planning on coming? I haven’t decided if I’m diving ten hours to have lunch in New London yet, or at all. Rodney is already cocked and loaded for me to visit him, but not on a Sunday! Not on a Sunday? Holy cow, my door is wide open to visit my Personal and Very Close Friend. What to do? What to do? 

Gosh, I haven’t thought about the Bible Belt in years. It’s only a vague memory of my youth when a few restaurants in Indianapolis were closed on Sunday. Being schooled by God-fearing Baptist parents, it was (SOP) standard operating procedure that they believed restaurants and businesses should close on the Sabbath. You know, God created the world in six days and on the seventh, he rested.  

Rodney also threw out another caveat, “There is a hotel down here called the Badin Inn. Established in 1913. I know the owner, and we are close friends. I can get you the room that Maye West slept in when she came to town. Of course, my first reaction was … “Is it the same bed?” I don't know when Maye West slept at the Badin Inn. One can only hope they change the mattress from time to time. Yes, I know, I’m being cynical.   

The idea that I could sleep in the same room as “Why don’t you come up and see sometime” and “When I’m good I’m very good, when I’m bad, I’m even better” is hard to resist. So, I decided to put the trip on my bucket list. I can only hope God will forgive me for what I’m thinking. Yes, I know Jimmy Carter said, “If you think it, you have done it”

Things happen in my life without me even thinking about it. In the next couple of months, all of a sudden, I had additional invitations to Jacksonville, Hollywood, North Fort Myers, Cape Coral, Sebring, and Tampa, Florida. All of the invitations are for late January and early February. With Indiana being “Indiana.” I decided to escape Indiana's dull, cold, and overcast skies. I then decided to combine all the invitations and make it an experience. So, I will be traveling to North Carolina and Florida for the next couple of posts/stories. 

One of the pleasures for me is being on the road by myself. I can stop wherever and whenever I want. I don’t know about you, but I enjoy a morning Micky-Dee egg muffin and a cup of Joe. I have come to realize that McDonalds doesn’t offer breakfast all day like they used to. If you show up at McDonalds after 10:30, the odds are they are going to tell you, “We are servicing lunch now.” Which can be a bummer if you have your taste buds set for an egg muffin. I stopped in Cambridge, Indiana, at about 9:30 in the morning, a few miles west of Richmond, Indiana, on Highway 70. I wanted to ensure my experience started with an egg muffin before it got too late. It’s the little pleasures of life.   

In the early afternoon, I pulled over and took a moment. I ordered a vanilla milkshake at a different McDonalds. I had been on the road for about six hours and decided to take a break from the super slab and think. 

I had breakfast with my son Scott the day before I started this trip, and we enjoyed a three-hour conversation at a Bob Evans restaurant in Indy. He was telling me he wanted to move to South Carolina. Much to my surprise, he has already purchased five acres of land and plans to build. He loves the moss in the trees, the climate, and the whole feel of South Carolina. The kids/grandkids are out of the house and on their own, and it’s just the two of them. So, now it’s their turn to do what pleases them.   

 

As I enjoyed my vanilla shake, I remembered when I was sitting on the ninth floor of a resort in Pompano Beach, Florida. I thought to myself back then, “Why can’t I live like this all the time?” And so, it came to pass. I focused on the goal, and the goal became a reality. I enjoyed living in North Fort Myers with my father for five years. And then, my Dad (George) passed in 2018, and I decided to head back to what I consider home. And now my son is doing the same thing. Focus on a goal and expect the best out of life. 

Of course, the fun part of any motor trip is getting out of the car, sitting in the dining room, and watching other people. I try to figure out what the person sitting on the other side of the room is all about. What do they do for a living? Do they have a family? How old are they, and why are they wearing the clothes they are wearing? And, of course, everyone had a cell phone in their hands. Even me when I took the picture below. 

Yes, I asked the man sitting by himself a question. I wasn’t sure where I had pulled off the road. I walked up to the man and asked if he knew the area. He said that he did. I explained I was on a motor trip and wasn’t sure where I had stopped. He said, “You are close to South Charleston, West Virginia. Where do you want to go?”   

I told him I was headed to New London, North Carolina. He looked at me with a puzzled look and I knew that there was no point in trying to explain New London. I thanked him for his information and headed for the “Mean Yellow.” 

I made a big mistake. Instead of stopping right before it got dark, I made a reservation in Albemarle, North Carolina. Albemarle is about ten miles south of New London. Since I hit that moose in Montana late at night, I tend not to want to drive in areas I don’t know. 

To get to the motel, I must drive in the dark for a couple of hours. The roads in this part of North Carolina are two lanes with many trees on each side. That means a deer can come out of nowhere, and I could find myself with a passenger in my front seat. I really wanted to stop driving at dusk and find a motel, but I had made the damn reservation. “Note to self. Don’t make a reservation; get off the road at dusk. Wherever you are.”   

I finally got to the Best Western, Albemarle, North Carolina. There was no one at the front desk. Only a sign that told me to phone the number on the paper. I waited in the lobby for a few minutes, and no one was anywhere to be found. I called the number, and a woman answered and said she would be there in a few minutes. She came down a long hall to the front desk. She said she was in the laundry room washing bed linen. So, I assume management requires the desk staff to do the laundry, too. Interesting. I’m sure it’s hard to find good people in these small towns. 

Let’s end this story here. I will explain the morning routine at the Best Western in the next post.