From the minute we pulled into Southwyck 'shopping centre', I could see that planning a quick stop in Toledo, Ohio was a bad idea. It was a town mired in failure. The arsehole of the state, if not the country.
Signs for fast food looked like they were made entirely out of clipart. Retirement homes were deathly still. It was raining. Even the pavements seemed like they'd given up hope, ending suddenly for no apparent reason.
It's most famous resident ended up marrying the high Priestess of an American super cult, just to get the hell out of there. Katie Holmes is safely ensconced in a NYC apartment these days, but Toledo remains a right old dump.
Our motel, America's Best Value Inn, (which at $80 for two nights for two people and TWO DOUBLE BEDS did offer extremely good value) was a mere mile and a half down the road. Unfortunately, this stretch of road included a monstrous dual carriageway that had no safe passage for plebby pedestrians. We were urged to suppress our natural survival instincts by half-witted locals and told to traipse along the hard shoulder. Mate. No. So we rang for a cab.
Perhaps it's because we failed to tip the restaurant we were standing in front of, it could be because the cab company were undiluted douchebags who had no comprehension of running a business, maybe there was a cosmic prophecy that decreed all visitors who found themselves flailing on streets the streets of Toledo would be gawked at but not offered assistance. Who knows? The whole town exists under one big grey question mark.
After forty minutes of watching a heavily obese man attempting to mow the carpark asphalt with his mobility scooter/lawnmower, ten minutes of wandering around Trotter's Tavern and five asking questions at a petrol station, a kindly grandfather offered to drop us off on the other end of the road. It was a risk getting into his car, but by that point the weight of the backpack on my bra straps was in serious danger of loping my arms right of.
We made it to the motel and the next day, feeling brave, decided to head into downtown Toledo to see what the place had to offer. Ziltch.
The only form of culture we derived from that outing was the deranged screaming of a black woman on the bus, who was seriously cheesed off with her husband/ the rain/ waiting for the bus/ Hello Kitty dolls. She was 70% rage, 20% fury, 10% weave: 'I DAWG ON TELL Y'ALL CALL ME WHEN THE BUS COME...YOU SHUT YO' LYIN' ASS, YOU DI'NT TELL ME NUTHIN'.... UH HUH, UH HUH MAKIN ME LOOK A CRAZY ASS FOOL. AH DAWG ON HATE STOOPID PEOPLE!!!'
So that's the short of it. I also nearly got run over in front of Taco Bell, befriended a crackhead and plucked my eyebrows. I can't write anymore, it's too depressing. Never go to Toledo.
Unless you're looking for someone to mow your driveway.
Signs for fast food looked like they were made entirely out of clipart. Retirement homes were deathly still. It was raining. Even the pavements seemed like they'd given up hope, ending suddenly for no apparent reason.
It's most famous resident ended up marrying the high Priestess of an American super cult, just to get the hell out of there. Katie Holmes is safely ensconced in a NYC apartment these days, but Toledo remains a right old dump.Our motel, America's Best Value Inn, (which at $80 for two nights for two people and TWO DOUBLE BEDS did offer extremely good value) was a mere mile and a half down the road. Unfortunately, this stretch of road included a monstrous dual carriageway that had no safe passage for plebby pedestrians. We were urged to suppress our natural survival instincts by half-witted locals and told to traipse along the hard shoulder. Mate. No. So we rang for a cab.
Perhaps it's because we failed to tip the restaurant we were standing in front of, it could be because the cab company were undiluted douchebags who had no comprehension of running a business, maybe there was a cosmic prophecy that decreed all visitors who found themselves flailing on streets the streets of Toledo would be gawked at but not offered assistance. Who knows? The whole town exists under one big grey question mark.
After forty minutes of watching a heavily obese man attempting to mow the carpark asphalt with his mobility scooter/lawnmower, ten minutes of wandering around Trotter's Tavern and five asking questions at a petrol station, a kindly grandfather offered to drop us off on the other end of the road. It was a risk getting into his car, but by that point the weight of the backpack on my bra straps was in serious danger of loping my arms right of.
We made it to the motel and the next day, feeling brave, decided to head into downtown Toledo to see what the place had to offer. Ziltch.
The only form of culture we derived from that outing was the deranged screaming of a black woman on the bus, who was seriously cheesed off with her husband/ the rain/ waiting for the bus/ Hello Kitty dolls. She was 70% rage, 20% fury, 10% weave: 'I DAWG ON TELL Y'ALL CALL ME WHEN THE BUS COME...YOU SHUT YO' LYIN' ASS, YOU DI'NT TELL ME NUTHIN'.... UH HUH, UH HUH MAKIN ME LOOK A CRAZY ASS FOOL. AH DAWG ON HATE STOOPID PEOPLE!!!'
So that's the short of it. I also nearly got run over in front of Taco Bell, befriended a crackhead and plucked my eyebrows. I can't write anymore, it's too depressing. Never go to Toledo.
Unless you're looking for someone to mow your driveway.
 |
| Boresville, USA |
And this is why you should have hired a car.
ReplyDelete