Haunted Motel 6? We'll leave the eerie spooky shifting dim light on for you.

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On my way from Montana to Colorado, I decided to stay in Idaho Falls Idaho, at the turnoff to Yellowstone. I didn't need luxury, so I drove toward the Motel 6 I had spied from the freeway. My first inkling that I was entering the Twilight Zone occurred when the motel seemed to have no entrance. What would normally be the "entrance" was covered by chain link fence. I drover further down the road, which curved to the left, and discovered an entrance near would normally be the "back" of a normal motel. At the desk, I asked for the price of a single. They prettyish gal said $100. $100 for a Motel 6? I was tired, so I said "OK" and went to my room. The room smelled heavily of old sponges--you know--the ones you forget to throw away? I then bounced on the bed. The mattress was soggy and it was actually one of those roll-a-beds, the kind you bring in for your fourth child. I knew I could not stay in that room without vomiting. Back at the front desk, a woman who appeared to be schizophrenic was rambling on about a man who wanted to choke her, but how the young attendant shouldn't call the police because "they only help men." There were several customers there, wondering what to do. I made a phone gesture to the attendant with my hands from behind the woman. I finally got a new room and checked it out. It had an entirely different but equally intolerable smell. The bed was another roll-a-bed. I headed back to the front desk, not sure what I was going to do. Back at the front desk, I turned to see a drunken man who had emerged from a room and was staggering around the lobby. In a slurred voice, he shouted a demand for another room, because some "crazy b*tch took all (his) money." I had had enough. The prettyish gal looked at me apologetically as she refunded my money. I told her to call 911 now. She did. Back at my car, I decided I needed a smoke. There, I ran into a woman who was having a cig as well. We began talking, and it turned out she was a tour guide at Yellowstone for Mandarin-speaking tourists. Her English was "broken," but we had a good conversation about her kids, the kids I work with, the relationship between music and language, and so on. I felt the world was a safe place again. As I was leaving, the fire engines and ambulance arrived. I stayed at the Shiloh Inn down the road. Ever had an experience like this?