Newspaper Article Archive of
West Seattle Herald

By Pat Cashman

A couple of weeks ago, I had been driving all day and felt as whipped as a crew of galley slaves. I searched through the deepening night gloom for any motel with a vacancy.

Just when I thought I was going to have to pull over and sleep roadside for the night, I saw a sign blinking up ahead---heralding the Trail’s End Motel.

Indeed it was---even though with a few burned out lights it read rail’s E d Mo e .
But the smaller sign below contained the good news: VACANCY. (Actually it read VACA. But thanks to my longtime “Wheel of Fortune” viewer-ship I figured it out.)
I strolled in to the motel office wearily. Behind the counter was a guy who looked so creepy that even Norman Bates would have turned around and gone back to his car. But I was so tired that a bed of nails sounded appealing.
After checking in, I walked down several doors to my new venue---number 11---and even though I was yet to lay eyes on it I was already writing a blistering Tripadvisor.com review in my mind. I knew it would have to be a doozy to top some I had seen previously on-line.

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