Lately, I've been doing a lot of traveling in connection with my writing. Why, the past three weekends alone I've driven to Sylva, North Carolina, Louisville, Kentucky, and Destin, Florida. Overall, I'm holding up reasonably well, except for the fact that my rear end is starting to closely resemble the upholstery pattern of my car seats. I've also learned that you don't want to drink a twenty-four ounce Diet Mountain Dew in a plastic bottle just before you drive up to Atlanta. Doing that can give the term, "the Foggy Mountain Two Step," a whole new meaning.

When you travel a lot it gives you the opportunity to stay in motels. Lots of motels. And I'm learning very quickly which ones are the good ones and which ones are the ones you need to avoid like a polecat. Believe me, even in this day in time there are as many fleabag motels as there are fire ants, and if you're not careful you can easily find yourself in one. Like the one I found myself in recently where the showerhead was level with my chest. I honestly had to bend over so far to wash my hair that I felt like a human parentheses. Or the one that I stayed in a couple of months back that had a TV with maybe four viewable channels, and the remote had no batteries in it. Oddly enough, right there on the nightstand was a little sign telling you that they had batteries for sale in the lobby for only three dollars apiece. Doesn't this sound like the sort of mega classy joint that you'll remember fondly for years to come?

Because of experiences like that, I'm going to do a little public service article for y'all this week, and point out just what to do look for so that everyone can avoid all the fleabag and clip joint motels that are out there in travel land. Believe me, the landscape is dotted over with 'em, and if I can save one person from an excruciating night in a true life Hades simulation, it will have been well worth it. Just consider the following: