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  • April 15, 2024

    On The Road Again


    My wife and I love road trips.

    Forget airplanes – hopscotching across the country from one big city to another in big aluminum tubes with people strapped down and packed inside like sardines.

    On a cross-country trip we get to see the rest of America – the nation that is woefully unrepresented on the nightly news, delivered via TV from a collection of self-important, college-educated scribes with little real-world experience. These are the folks who every evening come on the air to tell you what’s important and what’s not. Too bad they get it all so wrong about most of the country.

    On a road trip, you get to see for yourself. You get to go as far as you like for as long as you like. You can start early and drive late into the night – or even all through the night if you want. You can take as many detours and get places as slow or as fast as you choose.

    Of course, road trips also present a fair number of challenges. A trip across the United States by car will take many days. That means finding someplace to stay every evening. Our needs are pretty simple. We look for places that offer clean sheets, a clean place to shower, a comfortable bed, a microwave to heat up supper, and a mini-fridge for cold beverages. In short, a place to relax for the night at a reasonable price.

    We don’t need a full-service luxury hotel with an on-site restaurant and bar, room service, convention facilities, valet parking, and exorbitant resort fees, including $20 extra a night for an internet connection. We’re looking for a “traveler’s hotel.”

    Some of the brands that have traditionally met our needs include: Holiday Inn Express, Best Western Plus or Premiere, Hilton Home2 Suites, and Hilton Hampton Inns. Each one of these chains has its challenges – some are more expensive than others and some are not consistent in their offerings. Although the chains aren’t necessarily consistent across the country, we’ve identified the hotels that work for us. For the past 13 years, we traveled with Henry, the Wonder Dog, and so hotels that welcomed him were the only ones on our list.

    But times have changed. We just got back from a cross-country trip, and after about 15 nights in 13 hotels, we’ve had some experiences that have put a few of our tried-and-trues on the “no way in Hell” list.

    One is a Holiday Inn Express in Arizona and the other is a Hilton Home2 Suites in Florida.

    The Holiday Inn Express in Buckeye, Arizona, was the most expensive hotel we stayed in during our trip – just over $300 for our 10-hour stay. The night desk clerk who checked us in at 11:30 p.m. was lovely, but in the room there was a cryptic note from the hotel general manager Debbie DeMarco.

    Here’s a sample of her message:

    • Guest room thermostats are “motion” activated. Please come down to the front desks and let us know if you would like that adjusted.
    • Housekeeping service consists of a daily refresh every day and a full room clean every 5 days. For housekeeping service please ensure Do Not Disturb sign is not hanging on the door.
    • Our hotel offers a daily complimentary hot breakfast M-F 6:00am to 9:30am and Sat/Sun 6:30am to 9:30am.

    Does that mean the hotel in the middle of the Arizona desert has chosen the temperature for my room and if I want it cooler or warmer I have to go ask somebody to adjust it for me? Yes, it does.

    And what does “motion activated” mean? Does that mean if I lay down or sit quietly, the air conditioning or heating shuts down? Can I really not turn up the heat myself if I get cold around 3 a.m.? Or, if I’m too warm, does it mean I cannot adjust the heat without asking permission and getting assistance? Yes, again. That is what it means.

    I’m not sure about “refreshing” the room every day and cleaning it every five days. What does that means exactly? I would like to know before I rent the room if I am at day one or day five of the cleaning cycle.

    But, with all those frustrations, it was the “complimentary breakfast,” which really put this particular Holiday Inn Express at the top of the never-again list.

    The entire Holiday Inn Express chain offers the same basic breakfast – not bad, but not necessarily what we would order at a restaurant. And let’s face it, Holiday Inn calls it complimentary, but we all pay for it in the price of the room. Personally, we wish they would lower the room price a few bucks and let us buy the breakfast we want somewhere else.

    In Buckeye, we went down to breakfast, got some coffee and looked for some milk to put in it, but we couldn’t find any. We couldn’t find the breakfast attendant either. When we finally tracked her down, she was in the lobby, chatting to her friend at the front desk and clearly very irritated to be disturbed by a guest.

    Carmela told her there was no milk and asked if the lady could bring some more out. “Nope,” the attendant replied. “There will be some more tomorrow morning,” she told us. Of course, by tomorrow morning, we would be 400 miles away. Clearly not the attendant’s problem.

    We returned to breakfast room. One of the guests decided he would like some pancakes from the automated pancake machine, but there was no batter to pour into the machine. We told him where to find the attendant – still by the front desk chatting with her chum.

    On the guest’s prodding, the attendant reluctantly went and got some batter mix and put it next to the machine. A family with a couple kids came in, poured themselves bowls of cereal and looked around for the milk. “No milk,” the attendant growled. “You have to eat it dry.”

    Carmela suggested, “why don’t you go to the store across the street and buy some milk?”

    “Can’t leave my post,” the attendant replied from where she was again leaning on the front desk, again chatting with her friend and still clearly irritated that she kept being interrupted by pesky hotel guests.

    “Maybe you could get Door Dash to deliver it,” someone else suggested.

    “Not my job,” she answered.

    The question, of course, was why would she leave the self-serve cereal out if she knew there was no milk.

    The remaining guests – mostly traveling business types, some families with kids – started talking about the hotel, the rooms, the $300 a-night price, and how they are never staying there again. Good job, breakfast lady.

    The other hotel horror story was the Hilton Home2 Suites in Tallahassee, Florida. We’ve stayed there before, but things have truly gone downhill. We had reservations, but checking in meant standing in line with our bags for at least 20 minutes while the one clerk on duty dealt with a large and aggressive woman over what she thought should be a discounted rate for her room.

    He seemed to be doing the best he could, but by the time he got to us, he was completely frazzled. Meanwhile, the line of guests waiting with their bags to check in had grown substantially longer. No other hotel staff were to be seen.

    The room we had booked online was for one king-sized bed, with a king-sized bed room rate. But the clerk told us the hotel only has five king-sized beds, and we had to have two queen beds. OK, no problem, we said. What we got was two double beds shoved awkwardly into one side of the room and a musty smell in both the bedroom and the bathroom. The paint in the bathroom was peeling. There was mold in the shower, and the baseboards were cracked. The TV didn’t work. All of the ice machines were either empty or broken.

    The next morning, Carmela went down to get some coffee to bring back to the room. When she poured a little milk in it, it came out in a curdled glub. Meanwhile, people who had ordered cereal and poured curdled milk into it were literally spitting it out and loudly complaining.

    The attendant responded by pointing out that the expiration date on the milk showed that it was still good and would be for several more days. No apology. No offer to get fresh milk. No realization that even though the expiration date hadn’t been reached, the milk had gone bad.

    Definitely not a good look for the Hilton brand.

    Those were the worst hotels this trip, but from coast to coast most of the hotels we stayed at have taken a hit. Hotels – like so many other businesses in the country – have been severely impacted. The extended economic shutdown plus new minimum wage laws have taken their toll. Hotels have cut back on their staffing and deferred basic upkeep and repairs to save money. At the same time, they’ve raised prices. As hotel guests, it does not make us happy, but we do understand that the financial model is not penciling out these days.

    Most disappointing was that at most of the places, there wasn’t anybody in charge who could make an independent decision or make things run better.

    At the Holiday Inn Express in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, the water suddenly stopped working. We had already showered, but we had to use bottled water to brush our teeth. In the lobby, guests with soapy and wet hair, wanted to know how long it would be before they could rinse off. “No clue,” said the unconcerned gentleman at the counter. He said the water was off all over town, but when we met friends for breakfast at a restaurant down the block, the water was on, and no one at the restaurant had heard that there had been any problem with the water.

    Bad things happen. Everybody understands that, but the man on the desk didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t seem that interested in finding out. He just made up a lie to get people to go away and leave him alone. In a well-run hotel, the guests might have been offered an apology and a plan on where they might go to finish their showers.

    My guess is the man at the desk was not the man in charge. In fact, across the country the hotels we stayed out seemed to have nobody who was authorized to make a decision – such as awarding a discount, promising to find a solution, or even giving a sincere apology. The result is a plethora of hotels with toilets that don’t fully flush, TVs that don’t work, missing light bulbs, moldy and broken showers, and a general take-it-or-leave-it-attitude.

    For the most part, it is sadder than it is infuriating.

    It’s important to note that along the way, we met folks old and young in some of those same establishments, who were doing the best they could in very trying circumstances. They wanted to be helpful, they wanted to make the hotel guests feel comfortable and welcome.

    Even if they were short-staffed and out of ice, they were doing the best they could and we appreciated it.



    In our Hotel Hell trip, there were two outstanding exceptions – the kind of exceptions that we hesitate to mention because we don’t really want the word to get out and for them to be all booked up when we show up again.

    One is the Holiday Inn Express in Pensacola Beach, Florida. It has one of the best views of the Gulf of Mexico on what is known as the Florida Panhandle – that section of the state that extends west from the Florida peninsula.

    In the panhandle, the beaches are facing south and are more accessible to visitors from Alabama than they are to most folks in Florida – which has provided the region with the nickname the “Redneck Riviera.”

    We were there during the stormy winter months, which we love, yet the waters of the gulf were still warm enough for a quick dip and a walk along the beach. The prices go up as the weather gets warmer, but this is still a deal and a lovely place to spend a few days.

    The other hotel of note is The Crystal Bay, a vintage hotel in St. Petersburg, Florida with an interesting past. Marilyn Monroe stayed there in the day and so did Babe Ruth, among others. Nowadays it is surrounded by a lot more traffic and commercial developments, but it retains the kind of ambiance that makes it one of our favorites.

    The rooms are clean, comfortable and have the old-world charm that screams Florida. The rates are reasonable, the staff is extremely friendly, and the complimentary breakfast buffet is one of the best in our experience.

    But please, let that be our little secret. We don’t want too many people to learn about it and horn in on our good time.

    – George Lee Cunningham

     If you would like to subscribe to our work, you may contact me at george@georgeleecunningham.com and let me know and you will get an email reminder of blog postings. Your name will not be shared and you may cancel at any time.

  • March 24, 2024



    My wife Carmela has never really understood me. Like most females, she remains very practical about the literal meaning of many things.

    For instance, if I say, “You know honey, I would really like to move to Alaska and build a log cabin.”

    Then she would say: “Where exactly are you going to get the logs, how are you going to buy the pipes and install the plumbing, where is the running water going to come from, what about the disposal of sewage, and where is the nearest grocery store going to be?”

    Now that I have been challenged, I end up making some crazy off-the-top-of-my-head comments about buying an axe, cutting down trees, building a log cabin, diverting a nearby stream for water, and somehow digging a hole in the frozen tundra to install a septic tank. As far as nearby grocery stores, I would go out and catch some fish in the stream, snare some rabbits and birds in traps, and once in a while shoot a moose. She could gather wild berries in the summer to can for later and collect eggs from the chickens we would take with us.

    Of course, the more I talk, the more ridiculous it sounds, and she would just shake her head like I’m an idiot, and declare she was not moving to the middle of nowhere and living on berries and moose meat. End of subject.

    My mistake, of course, is trying to defend what I am saying. But recently, I have learned a new word that describes exactly what I am doing.

    It comes from a Scottish duo named the “Proclaimers” in a song titled: “I would walk 5oo miles.” The song describes a man who is totally devoted to a woman and vows in the chorus:

    “I would walk 500 miles

    And I would walk 500 more

    Just to be the man who walked a thousand

    Miles to fall down at your door.”

    I like the song, mainly because much like the lyrics, I am also devoted to a woman – although sometimes she clearly does not understand me.

    The magic word, I’ve finally found, comes in one of the verses of the song, in which the singers proclaim.

    If I get drunk, well I know I’m going to be

    I’m going to be the man who gets drunk next to you

    And if I haver, yeah, I know I’m going to be

    I’m going to be the man who’s havering to you.

    So, we’re listening to the song, and Carmela asks, what is “havering?”

    I have no idea, so I look it up on the internet. It turns out that “havering” is a Scottish term for talking nonsense.

    And just like that I have found the perfect word to explain the kind of things I often say to my wife that make her think I’m not quite all there.

    A few days later, we’re driving through the desert in New Mexico, just after sunset, and the whole twilight world turns soft and fuzzy in the afterglow of the day. The time between sunset and darkness has been a bit magical for me ever since I was a child, chasing fireflies before being ordered to bed.

    So, I say to my wife, “You know, I would like to pull over, grab a light blanket from the back of the truck, walk a couple of miles into the desert and lay down in the soft sand and spend the night.”

    And right away, she starts talking about rocks and thorns, spiders and snakes, and other little nasty creatures that will crawl into our ears and fly up our noses.

    “Honey,” I tell her, “I know all that, I’m just ‘havering’ because it looks so magical driving through the desert at this time of evening.”

    I wasn’t trying to be practical. I was expressing how the beauty of what we were seeing made me feel.

    And best of all, I think she finally got it too.

    – George Lee Cunningham

     If you would like to subscribe to our work, you may contact me at george@georgeleecunningham.com and let me know and you will get an email reminder of blog postings. Your name will not be shared and you may cancel at any time.

  • February 20, 2024



    Around midnight on February 2, two B1-B Lancer stealth bombers used 125 precision-guided missiles to strike 85 targets in Iraq and Syria. The bombers had flown all the way from Dyess Air Force Base in Texas, then returned home in what was a 44-hour mission. The targets included command and intelligence centers, rockets, and drone storage and supply chain facilities.

    The politics aside, it had special meaning for my wife Carmela Cunningham.

    Back in the early 1980s – when a mid-2os Carmela was still Carmela Castorina – she worked in public relations for the B1-B program at Rockwell International.

    She interviewed the people who built the plane from the folks who carefully laid out the complex electrical connections that controlled the aircraft and its moveable swept-back wings, to the engineers who helped design everything from the landing gear to the avionics, and to the company executives that oversaw the program.

    And she often had to babysit sometimes-hostile members of the press.

    She had the privilege to climb aboard the aircraft while it was being built and after it was completed. She helped host celebrations in Palmdale with test pilots, Air Force brass and aviation legends such as retired Gen. Jimmy Doolittle, who led the B-25 raid over Tokyo in 1942. One of her work friends was test pilot Doug Benefield, who died shortly thereafter when he crashed in the Mojave Desert during tests of the B-1B’s low-altitude, radar-avoiding avionics.

    It wasn’t all test pilots and chasing down the runway during takeoffs and landings. There was also the politics – the retired generals who used their influence to land cushy executive positions with the company; the congressmen who toured the plant, gave a talk after lunch and received an “honorarium” for their efforts; and the grown children of politicians and military brass who spent their summers in well-paid and cushy jobs at the company.

    And though she grew weary of the politics and the never-ending corporate meetings on how to improve employee morale and how to boost the company’s image, she remained proud of the aircraft and of the hard-working people who had poured their talents into developing technology and making it all come together.

    So, when she read about the mission and how successful the plane fulfilled the purpose for which it was built, she couldn’t help but feel at little proud of the small part she had played. She was also sad and a bit horrified about the people who had been killed and injured in the bombing.

    The numbers of casualties depend on which side is doing the counting, but there were scores of fatalities and a larger number of wounded. And there is much controversy over the politics of the mission and the political fallout, but that will be an argument for those so inclined.

    Carmela remains proud of the aircraft she wrote about and promoted and the smart and hard-working people she met during her time at Rockwell. And the blood on her hands? That’s something she also has to acknowledge.

    It may not make her happy, but she knew 40 years ago what the plane was designed to do, and what it finally did. And she’s willing to live with that.

    – George Lee Cunningham

     If you would like to subscribe to our work, you may contact me at george@georgeleecunningham.com and let me know and you will get an email reminder of blog postings. Your name will not be shared and you may cancel at any time.

  • February 12, 2024



    Women, please don’t read this. It’s just going to make you mad, and believe me, none of us on the male side of the wonderful dance of love want that. Especially not in February – the month of love.

    Okay men, now that we’re alone, I have some advice for you about the upcoming holiday. And if you’re thinking to yourself, “what holiday,” you REALLY need this advice. February 14 is St. Valentines Day. And while that might be a big snoozer to you – it’s not to the lovely creature with whom you share a life. To her, it’s a big deal, and you are expected to get a lovely, meaningful present for her – and to act like you are so very happy to have the pleasure. If you do not get her something appropriate, something that says you are honored to be buying her this lovely gift, there is going to be Hell to pay. As I get ready to celebrate my 80-something Valentine’s Day, I’m going to share a few do’s and don’ts with you. My own little gift toward ensuring world peace.

    FIRST: Don’t forget. That is the worst thing you can do. And, don’t let her trick you into anything. Valentine’s Day is a test, and you don’t want to flunk it.

    If the lovely lady in your life wakes up one morning and says, “oh Honey, don’t buy me anything for Valentine’s Day, I know how much you love me, and you don’t have to follow some dumb, commercialized holiday rules to prove it,” you’d best be very careful. Because, she’s just talking in lady code. What she really means is, “don’t forget Valentine’s Day on Wednesday, and if you don’t get me something better than my friend’s husband gets her, you’re never going to forget it.”

    SECOND: Don’t get her too expensive or too elaborate a present.

    This is very important. If Cupid takes hold of you this year, and you decide to go all out, to do something truly amazing, trust me, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. Sure, you may have this great idea about a horse-drawn carriage, a Gucci purse, precious gems, a new car, or a week in Tahiti, but refuse to be drawn into that trap. Whatever you do this year, you’re going to have to do SOMETHING BIGGER AND BETTER next year. If you do this, there is no going back to a bouquet of flowers or a box of candy. Each year will present a new and bigger challenge. And even if you spend a bunch of time and money trying to top yourself every year, sooner or later, you’re going to run out of ideas, and then you’re cooked.

    I’m not saying you should never get your wife or significant other an expensive present. But if you are going to do it, just pick another date – July 14 or maybe October 17. Some obscure date that’s not going to commit you to an ever-escalating yearly repeat.

    THIRD: Don’t give her something that’s really a gift for you.

    You know what I mean. Sheer lingerie or X-rated board games. And stay the heck away from making cutsie little vouchers for giving her a great massage. Let’s face it, those are all presents from you to you and they all carry an obligation for her to please you. You know it and so does she.

    FOURTH: Make sure there is some hint of romance involved in whatever you buy.

    It’s got to be something that focuses on love. Not a toaster oven or a vacuum cleaner, or pots and pans. It’s got to be something that says, “I love you, honey,” not, “look you can cook all kinds of things for me with this!”

    FIFTH: Make sure you’re not sending an unintended message.

    If your lady is  somebody you just like – you know a friend with benefits – don’t get her something that says “I love you so much,” – whether it’s an inflated ballon with a message attached or anything that hints at moving the relationship to a new level. You’ll never worm your way out of that one.

    SIXTH: If you fail to heed this timely reminder and you wake up and it’s February 14 and you have nothing to give her. DO NOT go to Starbucks and buy her a coffee mug. It’s like carrying a sign saying you simply don’t care.  Also stay away from the nearest drugstore and your home improvement super store.

    Your best bet at this point is to immediately call up her favorite high-end restaurant and make reservations for that night. Then get a little 4-by-5 card and neatly write on it a sweet message about how much you love her and that you wish to celebrate by taking her out to dinner. Then put it in an envelope and draw two little stick people embracing in a heart. If you can find a red pen, use that. It reeks of Valentine’s Day.

    It may not work, but it’s certainly worth a try.

    FINALLY: The thing about St. Valentines Day is that it really is a retail obligation, which is not based on love or even like. The real answer is to treat your woman with love and respect on all 365 days of the year.

    Tell her you love her, thank her for all the little and big things she does for you, and defend her against all enemies – even if you know she is wrong.

    – George Lee Cunningham

     If you would like to subscribe to our work, you may contact me at george@georgeleecunningham.com and let me know and you will get an email reminder of blog postings. Your name will not be shared and you may cancel at any time.

  • December 6, 2023



    We all dread it.

    This is the year I had to get my driver license renewed, and that doesn’t make me happy. It means a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles, a long wait to be called to a window – even if I have an appointment – and being curtly ordered around by and a bunch of harried bureaucratic talking heads.

    It’s not as though all DMV folks are rude. I’m sure many of them are very nice, but their job is to process endless paperwork and to move things along as quickly as possible in order to get to the next cranky person in line. As in every office where it’s almost impossible to get fired, there are a few DMV staffers who take their frustrations or prejudices out on whomever they decide is worthy of their contempt – usually the person standing on the other side of the plexiglass window from them.

    The bottom line is that nobody looks forward to going to the DMV for anything.

    The problem for me is compounded by the fact that the state of California has decided that anybody more than 70 years old needs to be checked a little more carefully than others. I understand it, but being a 70-plus person, I also resent it. I know from experience that many people much younger than 70 have age-related, anger-related, or drug-related driving problems, and many people older than that do not.

    In the State of California, there is now a special test for people older than 70, and it is creating some concern for older drivers.

    To be fair, the DMV is offering sample quizzes that older drivers can use to practice up for the test. But, because it is the DMV, the sample quizzes have little to do with the actual test that is required of older drivers. I’ve heard this from several friends, and I’ve even seen a couple stories crop up in online news stories.

    The “Knowledge Test” required of folks 70 and up, is drawn up by a bunch of political apparatchiks who lay down arbitrary rules about such minutia as how many feet before you turn should you signal your intent. The real answer, of course, is that it depends. If you are driving at 25 miles-per-hour through a residential neighborhood, it’s one thing. If you are getting ready to exit a freeway at 70 miles-per-hour with a monster truck hot on your bumper, it’s quite another.

    So the real rule of the road – the one real drivers should employ – is use your common sense and err on the side of safety. But it’s hard to put that in a test.

    Yes, everybody hates going to the DMV, but if you live in California and you want to legally drive a car and have insurance cover you for the unexpected, you have little choice but to dance to their tune.

    At least that’s what I thought.