Now I am all for the romantic notion of throwing off the shackles of the working world and seeing America in a mobile home. But even I know that when the person takes you out to a stark, almost lunar landscape on a “vacation”. They are probably going to kill you.
Our national fixation on childhood took a smoke break in the 1970s. There’s no better evidence of this than in the vacation literature of the time. For example, this brochure from the Alton, IL, Holiday Inn advertised the latest and greatest in family leisure spaces circa 1977:
Fun for kids of adult ages.
Exciting! The plush chairs in the middle section are a perfect place for Mom and Dad to swirl their Tom Collins and yell at the kids who were running to the pool.
Don't splash the Breck girls!
Pools, by the way, were for sitting in or aside and for giving the whole motel that unshakable smell of chlorine and wet carpet. Yet, who could blame the kids for wanting to run around? They’d just driven from Schaumburg to Elyria-Lorain.
All this fun has made the kiddos hungry. There are exactly two items on the kids menu: fried chicken and a hot dog.
I'll have what my great aunt is having.
You were promised a movie – in your room! – but Dad found out that they cost $1.95 each and he won’t pay it. Besides, it’s 7:30! Time for bed!
Tucking the kids away.
Mom and Dad are just a few floors away, enjoying some kind of rendition of “Baker Street” without a saxophone.
I have never been to Bermuda, but I have a dream where I head there and hop on a scooter and cruise around the island. If I had someone with me, I would definitely rent them their own scooter. The women on the back of the moped could not look less comfortable and her face says, “This giant goon doesn’t think I am work the extra 45 bucks to have my own scooter.”