Upon learning that the Peaks of Otter Lodge had reopened for the remainder of the summer, I felt it my Screw duty to mosey on up there to Bedford and see what I could see. With the promise of WiFi and cable, I felt certain a nature get-away was just the thing for a invigorating, overnight stay.
We're going to play a fun new game in which, when I'm about to be disappointed by something, you'll know by the precursor statement "oh, look at that." When you see the "oh, look at that" you'll know it's your clue for finding issues with any number of things. It's kind of like a game my mother played with me as a child when reading Richard Scarry's books. Mom, with a lofty excitement in her encouraging voice, goaded me to find Lowly worm with his cute little boot and hat and his mischievous, yet innocent countenance (that's right--he was my inspiration). Later on in Bible College I discovered by way of The Message (it's kind of like the hipster of Bibles) that his real name was Jacob. Only a select amount of people will get that joke and that's ok because it has nothing to do with anything we're talking about.
(Lowly and his friends take the Sharp Top Bus Tour)
We arrive and wait in line for five minutes before I decide that I want to look in the gift store. Way overpriced, but that's to be expected. At least they had a few creative items like a cutting board and a few pretty ornaments.
I rejoined the line to learn that, oh, look at that, WiFi is not working and they cannot access or confirm any reservations. But that's ok because the people smart enough to know this would happen within the first few weeks of reopening stayed home to scoff at the News and Advance article on their laptop while watching their cable television.
Speaking of television, there was none. Either that or they are now so high tech that the wire sticking out of the wall was connected to an invisible television that only Lowly and his friends can see.
I'll take this opportunity to, with no apologies, make fun of you smug folk who make fun of people like me. You'll say something witty such as,"Why yes, that cable WAS connected to an invisible TV and it's called nature! Who would go to an establishment that is obviously nature centric and watch television? What have we become when the opportunity to breathe fresh air, commune with trees, challenge our physical, mental, and spiritual beings and to go back to our origins are compromised and sloughed off for the Kardashians? We need to turn off our cell phones and realize what we've become."
To that person I would first suggest they go find their proverbial lowly worm and second would confirm that I realize what I have become. I have become that person who enjoyed the quaint and rustic accommodations in theory until I realized the promise of electronics was bankrupt. The mountains are pretty and the vintage, campy room with the bottle opener on the bathroom door and the razor disposal built into the wall tile are super quaint but it gets dark at night, bugs are loud, and I'm not great at vandalism although I'm fairly competent in the field of petty theft. We have no cable at home, there's no television at all in the bedroom, and my ideal vacation evening is eating crackers and squeeze cheese in bed, in my underwear, while watching Nick at Nite.
Don't sit there in your condescending way and tell me that I could read, either. I am considerably well read. If you've been paying attention you'll note the Lowly Worm nod near the introduction.
We walked around the grounds for a while as I had already had a bottle of wine in an attempt to negotiate my feelings about the significant loss I experienced in coming to terms with the thought of paying for a hotel with no cable. I had convinced myself that we could procure an elderly couple that would come over to our room, eat squeeze cheese and crackers, and teach me some really quaint and charming old people game, but Erik said the way I get loud and thrash my hands about after drinking an entire bottle of wine would be a bit off-putting and regardless, oh look at that--no real games of any kind in the lodge except checkers and, oh look at that, I suck at checkers.
The next morning we made our way to the restaurant which was actually, very nice. It's very open and wooden with big windows and a lovely view of the mountains I wouldn't be climbing because of a combination of a hangover and a potential stomach ulcer. If you visit in autumn (which I may very well do as a second chance effort) I will say the bedding is very warm. I was hot all night, even though the air conditioner was working smoothly.
Breakfast was very affordable but I can't comment in length because, due to said stomach issue, I only ordered a bagel and yogurt although, oh look at that, they were out of grits. No Southern restaurant should ever be out of grits unless it's due to force feeding them down the throats of Yankees by the hundreds yelling,"YOU CAN'T PUT SUGAR IN GRITS YOU IDIOT!"
I'm just messin' with you, Yankees. You can put sugar in your grits. If you're a total chode.
This trip gets a Screw Lucy, "we'll try again." I do think it's an affordable local getaway for a number of ideals--let's say a new couple who enjoys nature and lots of physical activity, a women's church group getting together for worship and community (they have a small amphitheater with church services on Sunday), or a guy in his forties who egotistically poo-poos others for being too dependent on technology but then, oh look at that, can't stand himself after an hour alone.
We're going to play a fun new game in which, when I'm about to be disappointed by something, you'll know by the precursor statement "oh, look at that." When you see the "oh, look at that" you'll know it's your clue for finding issues with any number of things. It's kind of like a game my mother played with me as a child when reading Richard Scarry's books. Mom, with a lofty excitement in her encouraging voice, goaded me to find Lowly worm with his cute little boot and hat and his mischievous, yet innocent countenance (that's right--he was my inspiration). Later on in Bible College I discovered by way of The Message (it's kind of like the hipster of Bibles) that his real name was Jacob. Only a select amount of people will get that joke and that's ok because it has nothing to do with anything we're talking about.
We arrive and wait in line for five minutes before I decide that I want to look in the gift store. Way overpriced, but that's to be expected. At least they had a few creative items like a cutting board and a few pretty ornaments.
I rejoined the line to learn that, oh, look at that, WiFi is not working and they cannot access or confirm any reservations. But that's ok because the people smart enough to know this would happen within the first few weeks of reopening stayed home to scoff at the News and Advance article on their laptop while watching their cable television.
Speaking of television, there was none. Either that or they are now so high tech that the wire sticking out of the wall was connected to an invisible television that only Lowly and his friends can see.
I'll take this opportunity to, with no apologies, make fun of you smug folk who make fun of people like me. You'll say something witty such as,"Why yes, that cable WAS connected to an invisible TV and it's called nature! Who would go to an establishment that is obviously nature centric and watch television? What have we become when the opportunity to breathe fresh air, commune with trees, challenge our physical, mental, and spiritual beings and to go back to our origins are compromised and sloughed off for the Kardashians? We need to turn off our cell phones and realize what we've become."
To that person I would first suggest they go find their proverbial lowly worm and second would confirm that I realize what I have become. I have become that person who enjoyed the quaint and rustic accommodations in theory until I realized the promise of electronics was bankrupt. The mountains are pretty and the vintage, campy room with the bottle opener on the bathroom door and the razor disposal built into the wall tile are super quaint but it gets dark at night, bugs are loud, and I'm not great at vandalism although I'm fairly competent in the field of petty theft. We have no cable at home, there's no television at all in the bedroom, and my ideal vacation evening is eating crackers and squeeze cheese in bed, in my underwear, while watching Nick at Nite.
Don't sit there in your condescending way and tell me that I could read, either. I am considerably well read. If you've been paying attention you'll note the Lowly Worm nod near the introduction.
We walked around the grounds for a while as I had already had a bottle of wine in an attempt to negotiate my feelings about the significant loss I experienced in coming to terms with the thought of paying for a hotel with no cable. I had convinced myself that we could procure an elderly couple that would come over to our room, eat squeeze cheese and crackers, and teach me some really quaint and charming old people game, but Erik said the way I get loud and thrash my hands about after drinking an entire bottle of wine would be a bit off-putting and regardless, oh look at that--no real games of any kind in the lodge except checkers and, oh look at that, I suck at checkers.
The next morning we made our way to the restaurant which was actually, very nice. It's very open and wooden with big windows and a lovely view of the mountains I wouldn't be climbing because of a combination of a hangover and a potential stomach ulcer. If you visit in autumn (which I may very well do as a second chance effort) I will say the bedding is very warm. I was hot all night, even though the air conditioner was working smoothly.
Breakfast was very affordable but I can't comment in length because, due to said stomach issue, I only ordered a bagel and yogurt although, oh look at that, they were out of grits. No Southern restaurant should ever be out of grits unless it's due to force feeding them down the throats of Yankees by the hundreds yelling,"YOU CAN'T PUT SUGAR IN GRITS YOU IDIOT!"
I'm just messin' with you, Yankees. You can put sugar in your grits. If you're a total chode.
This trip gets a Screw Lucy, "we'll try again." I do think it's an affordable local getaway for a number of ideals--let's say a new couple who enjoys nature and lots of physical activity, a women's church group getting together for worship and community (they have a small amphitheater with church services on Sunday), or a guy in his forties who egotistically poo-poos others for being too dependent on technology but then, oh look at that, can't stand himself after an hour alone.
Thank you for a well-written critique, Screw Lucy. You have brightened my morning considerably, you funny girl!
ReplyDeleteThen I trust you'll be present for the retry.
ReplyDeletegreat blog, Lowly Jacob.. too funny
ReplyDelete