In the intervening years, she traveled as much as possible. For family and solo trips she camped, stayed in cabins, lodged with family, and enjoyed an occasional overnight stay in an historic hotel or mountain lodge. For business it was Radissons, Hiltons, and designated convention resorts in far-flung locations; Atlanta, Dallas, D.C. Spokane, Tucson. But never did she stay overnight in the opulence of her childhood standard – The Ramada Inn.
In the sixties, while she was making her way through elementary school, construction on Interstate 70 was plowing west along the north side of the Grand Valley. Grand Junction road construction crews were bustling about forging a link to the 70mph commerce whizzing between Denver and Salt Lake City by cutting through farm and ranch land with an innovative diagonal road dubbed Horizon Drive. What she knew about Horizon drive was that it crossed the spot where she once ran to catch the school bus on a dirt road. She had heard old-timers scoff that there was little need, traffic-wise, for such a motor corridor – what a waste. She had heard her uncle respond that next time he flew in (piloting his private 4-seater plane) he would use the newly paved Horizon Drive as his landing strip and just taxi right up to the farm. Horizon bordered the north side of 35 acres once owned by her grandparents. A mile and a half further north was the Grand Junction Airport where during an extra snowy winter her grandfather had taken the Farm All tractor and blade to snowplow the landing strip.
As soon as the interchange was complete for Horizon Drive and I-70, a Holiday Inn and a Ramada Inn sprang up. Classy. Expensive. Two-story. The Ramada had a sweeping staircase ascending to the second floor. Both had restaurants. Fancy people stayed there. City folks with lots of money went out to dinner. She herself enjoyed a formal meal there as a Ninth (or was it Seventh) Grader whose bandmate team achieved the highest sales total for World’s Finest Chocolate. With that money they later toured to Colorado Springs and the Broadmoor and performed for Colorado Music Teachers Association.
Most of them are dead now – the ones that actually won the prize. They will never know that she stayed in the Ramada Inn these past two nights. Oh, it is not the Ramada anymore. It is some contemporary temporary lodging sort of villa known as its address; 718. Before that, it had been a Travel Lodge for a few decades. But the bones – moderately spacious rooms with a front door and a back door that opens into a landscaped courtyard – and the sweeping staircase – are still there.
It’s the Ramada all right. The red carpet is gone, but just look at that staircase!