Cliff suggested we spend Sunday afternoon and night in Branson. When we go to Branson, we like to park the motorcycle or car at our motel and walk to the shows and attractions; it keeps us from sitting in the tremendous traffic jam that has made Branson famous.
Finding a motel was not a concern; there are always lots of vacancies, because people got carried away building motels in the seventies. Finding a halfway decent motel, however, can be a daunting task.
We discussed this as we sped up highway 65 toward our destination.
"Hey, there's that one motel where we stayed with the granddaughters once," I said. "It was pretty decent; actually, we've stayed there twice, and I got a letter this year saying it's under new ownership. They might have made some improvements since we were last there."
"Yeah, but how will we find it," Cliff asked.
I remembered walking down and across the street to McDonald's last time we were there, so we looked for the Golden Arches and found the Windmill Inn easily.
As we checked in, I asked about the Wifi.
"Well, it's not working so well," the girl informed me.
The commode seldom flushed completely, as seen here (don't worry, there's only toilet paper in there).
I didn't take pictures of the dead flies in the windowsill, and there's no way I can describe the odor in the room, predominantly urine.
You're probably wondering why we didn't go elsewhere. It was the last night of our road trip, and 76 boulevard was already getting messy; it didn't seem worth the effort to get out there in that traffic nightmare on our motorcycle. We did not avail ourselves of the free breakfast; we stopped at McDonald's on our way out of town Monday morning.
You can read reviews of the place HERE. Most of them are from a couple years back: Trust me, the place has only gotten worse.