Pardon me, while I puke

Somewhere in Iowa we're sitting in a hotel room with two kids who are wired like midget, crack addicts and me fighting the urge to throw up. I'm taking two different antibiotics and my guts are doing that freaky dance that Rerun did on "What's Happening". My wife is the only voice of reason here. It's Father's Day and we've spent it on the road, which wasn't all bad -- the scenery was nice...ish, but I'm ready to be home and not living out of a suitcase. A word about Des Moines, Iowa. I've only driven through a small portion of this place and from where I sit, they've figured out how to inject the Jesus into just about everything here. Now, I have nothing against Jesus, I mean for the love of Pete, the dude bought the farm for our sins and all. You don't take one for the team like that and get badmouthed by me, no way, no how... not here... not like this. But weird displays in restaurants and gas stations all promoting Christianity? What the hell is it with middle-aged, Christian women and their fascination with everything Elvis? And, while I'm Jerry Seinfelding here, what's with the blown glass? I mean their just ape shit about the stuff... who are these people? A word of caution if you're traveling down I-80 and come upon the Red Roof Inn. Keep driving. Even if you're really tired and in danger of crashing. You're likely to have a better dining and sleeping experience upside down in your car, bleeding from a torn anus than stopping at the Red Roof Inn. This particular "hotel" is a crap hole. Some of the lights were burned out in our room, the toilet leaked and well, aside from the TV having horrible reception, the place smelled like a combination of stale smoke and the inside of a baby's diaper. Needless to say it had a real depressing feel to it. Perhaps that's what really happened to David Carradine, he stayed at a Red Roof Inn. Whoa, too soon for DC jokes? Perhaps. But I was ready to choke myself (and not in a sexual way) to keep from seeing the inside of this place any longer than necessary. Not to mention the sound of the highway right outside the window, of course that was just a bonus. I'll be honest here, I really enjoy a clean hotel and a little room service. It doesn't have to be fancy, just clean and well run and some burgers on the menu. Anything in addition to that is gravy, and from now on I'll look for those little gravy droplettes any chance I get. There is nothing more depressing than staying in a cruddy hotel room, unless you have a different agenda. Now, if I were smuggling heroine or needing to dispose of a body, this place would have been ideal. Gun running or snorting cocaine off a hooker's ass? Yep, this was the place to do it. Hiding from the law or going under witness protection? Bingo -- Red Roof Inn. But, my vacation included none of these activities. Oh hell, I just realized something. I'm not angry that this place sucked -- I'm bitter coz I haven't snorted cocaine off of a hooker's ass. God I'm transparent.