We spent a big chunk of life only going to visit people we knew when we went on vacation, grandparents, college roommates, that sort of cheap and comfortable vacation where you see your people.
When we started traveling for work reasons, we went a lot of places that hadn't been on the agenda financially or as major destinations. We had some meetings in New Jersey, New York, and other east coast locals so we drove from the midwest. We didn't used to plan for hotels and on these trips a lot of people host us so we were just winging it.
In the middle of New York somewhere far from civilization, we found ourselves too far to go back and too far to go on as the wee hours began to make us sleepy. We finally took the next exit because we saw a sign for the "White Horse Inn." Taking a dark exit far from everything we'd seen for some time, we drove another 10 miles or so into the woods and discovered the White Horse Inn was a pancake - dinner place and they were locking up. We really needed to stop for the night so we asked if there was anything near by, a bed and breakfast perhaps?
An older fellow pointed us to a campground just a few miles down the road (still further into the deep dark woods and away from the highway) and they had a hotel on the grounds. Perfect.
It was dark and late, we could have missed it but somehow saw the turn. No lights or anything, it was one of those old methodist camp ground type things with the little victorian cottages surrounding a main green. (This sort of thing though this is not the one.)
We parked in front of a white clapboard two story hotel, relieved and tired and wondering where we were. We'd passed no towns of any sort.
My significant other checked us in while I stood by the luggage at the bottom of the stairs looking at a painting. Not an experienced artist, but well meaning. I looked at the caption and it said, 'painted by Mary SoandSo in a trance.' Trance? I looked around further and there was a quilt done in a trance.
When my honey came up with the keys, we sort of put some things together he saw at the front desk and what I was seeing and realized we'd just checked into a camp for people who like to talk to dead people. Mediums, spiritualists, and such. Uh oh.
It was so late, we were tired and now paid up so we just went to our room, even though this would not have been a place we would pick out of website to stay. Let's just say it's not our spiritual cup of tea.
It was a lovely old room with wood floors and metal bed. You know how those old eastern board places don't have a/c? Well, this was one of them. We had the lights off in a few minutes since we were beat. My man was gleefully speculating if the curtains were blowing in the summer breeze or ...? I fell asleep. He told some family members who were completely terrified for us that we'd stayed there.
It was a lovely old camp ground but as we drove away each little cottage had a sign for a psychic or a medium or something. It struck me as a vaguely sinister environment with a quaint veneer over the top. A little arsenic and old lace.
Taking a different tact on the same trip later, we stayed in a hotel near the highway that had a hot tub the size of a car in one half of the BEDROOM space. Ick. And when I turned on the TV to porn, we were really skeeved out. I think I slept on top of my scarf. Let's say, this may when we began to realize we needed to plan a little more carefully.