One thing Needles has going for it is it’s on Route 66. Ok, maybe that’s the only thing. But that usually means a town is chock-a-block full of old cheap motels, and roadside eateries. Needles succeeds in the first, but fails in the 2nd. My motel was great in its day. To say it needs work would be an understatement, but the owners try, I suppose.
An old postcard for the place says it is located on “Restaurant Row”. Someone forgot to tell the restaurants, which are long, long gone. Of course, “Restaurant Row” is in WEST Needles, maybe all the food is in EAST Needles.
I’m punchy tonight, 4th day on the road, I’m driving too much, eating too much, and sleeping too little. Hmmm, sounds just like home. Well, except for the driving thing, don’t do much of that at home, unless you count driving Mrs BDB crazy as ‘driving.’
Anyway, I spent a good portion of my adult life staying in four and five star hotels, all over the world, on someone else’s dime. I used to stay in motels like this earlier in my life, because it was all I could afford. Now, I am drawn to them in some odd way, when I am on these burger odysseys. If the lobby smells like curry, I know I’m in the right place.
I used to “read” the yellow pages when I would check in a motel. It let me know what the lowdown was on pizza places, and other vital services like “Escorts – Outcall.”
The Needles yellow pages were pretty slim. There were only two advertisers that had purchased half page ads, both Bail Bondsmen. Both ads said “specializing in domestic violence.” I guess now we know what goes on in Needles.
So what did I eat? Well, it was a pizza nite, so I asked at the gas station if there was a pizza place in town. The guy said, “sure, there’s a domino’s at the next exit.” I replied “I guess you didn’t hear me, I said PIZZA.”
He didn’t get the joke.
45 minutes, I was faced down smoring in a Meatza Feast on the bed of the seedy motel. It wasn’t a first for me.
Here’s what it looked like prior to meeting my face.
