Sometimes the difference between a really bad trip and a great one is just a matter of the people you meet. The attitudes of those who check you in to a motel when you are so road weary you can't see straight can have a great influence on how rested you feel after you stay in that motel.

Three nights ago, we checked into a motel in Fort Saint John, on our way to Edmonton in Canada. This motel was one we've stayed at before, and we were looking forward to a good night's rest. The front desk clerk was crisp and efficient, but began to balk when we asked him to please show us the room before we decided to stay. We have our 90 year old mother traveling with us, and needed to check certain features - such as the distance from the bed to the bathroom, and how many obstacles she might encounter enroute. The clerk grudgingly took us down the hall to see the room. He set a pace much to fast for us to keep up, and then stood impatient at the door till we reached him.

We could tolerate this even though it struck us as somewhat rude. When we returned to the desk and began the check in process, however, things went sour. We realized the desk clerk was more interested in a television show he had blaring in the back room, than in assisting us. This realization came after we had to explain to him for the third time that there were three people checking in. I suppose our frustration was beginning to be evident, even though we'd not raised our voices or become impolite; but he made a terse comment about our attitudes, which immediately did raise our hackles. I did a lot of tongue biting, and we made it safely to sanctuary in our room, although we still felt the tension of the encounter, and found it hard to unwind.

The next morning we were greeted by a pleasant, smiling woman at the front desk, who was attentive and treated us like we were the only people on the planet. What a difference. I've examined this incident, because I'm always conscious of how I treat other people. I wanted to make sure in my own mind that we truly hadn't done anything to offend the night clerk, to bring upon us his negative treatment. I think he was just having a bad night, or really was upset over our interruption of his television show.

Last night we checked in to another motel, in Edmonton. The young woman at the front desk was very apparently Goth - black lips and fingernails, jet black hair and darkly lined eyes, dark clothing. She brought extra

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