I'd heard plenty of disturbing things about this place over the years. I mean hey, who hasn't,…read moreright? But seeing as how they've now been closed for five or ten years, I thought maybe I'd finally give The Lansing Motel a try. When I arrived, there was no desk clerk or desk, or check-in or room fee or room key or any of that usual motel nonsense to speak of. With no reservation or anything, I just walked right in from a long day of work on the nearby highway and made myself at home. Room assignment was DIY, pretty much, which I liked, so I found a big empty cardboard box and dragged it between the first two of those cute, little private bungalows. Once I got myself settled in for the night all rolled up snug in that cardboard, man, I slept just like a baby! The wind didn't hardly bother me at all, and rather than being a nuisance, instead the ceaseless diesels passing by on the highway lulled me to sleep like a soothing lullaby. Even though there was no office or desk or desk clerk or phone or anything for me to leave a wake-up call with, I still didn't oversleep because a pretty big dog with sort of yellow eyes who was foaming around the mouth a little bit, I guess, tried to tug my backpack from under my head just as it was getting light. Good old Cujo woke me up alright, boy, did he EVER, and I was off like a shot, sprinting away like a rabbit all well-rested and ready-to-go in plenty of time to arrive at work atop my on-ramp with my trusty old, "Pleez Hep Disabld Veet" sign. Would I stay at The Lansing Motel again? Sure, I guess so, but you know, I think maybe I'd wait until it got a little warmer outside, first. I still can't feel a couple of my toes. And oh yeah, maybe next time, I'd invest in a sleeping bag or something first, too. And, of course, I'll bring my swimsuit.