We spent two nights in an Ulster County motel that we’ve been aware of for years because of its big, orange sign. But we never stayed there. Just noticed it on our drives to Kingston, Woodstock, Phonecia, Big Indian. The High Bop* neon is iconic. For years, I imagined a funky 50’s motel with a view of the Catskill Mountains.

That was the fantasy and I should have left it at that. Our hosts advised us to stay at the Holiday Inn in Kingston but its rooms were sold out over two months ago (due to the Dutchess County Fair across the river). I called the High Bop and was very suspicious when the cheerful woman on the phone said that they had available rooms, "an excellent restaurant" and a lovely swimming pool. All for $84 dollars a night. Hmmmm. Why isn’t that place sold out, I wondered?

Somehow I knew.

Actually, they do have an excellent and attractive restaurant (which I don’t think is owned by the High Bop owners). And the swimming pool looked quite nice though we didn’t get a chance to try it due to the rain. Even the rooms were fine. Really fine. And well worth the $84 dollars a night.

But there was one itty bitty problem. The place stunk. Literally. Not inside, OUTSIDE. As we drove to our room which was downhill from the main office and lobby, we smelled it. You couldn’t miss it. HC got out of the car and gasped, "Smells like sewage," OSFO covered her nose with her coat and begged for the room pass so she could go inside the room. "Eeeeeew, it stinks."

Once in the room, you could still smell Eau de Sewage but it was a bit better. HC was still gagging because he couldn’t stand all the air freshener they used to cover the smell. After a few minutes in that fragrant room I decided to go to the office to speak to the manager. "They’ll have to give us another room," I said confidently.

The manager was sitting behind the desk. "I just want you to know, there’s a terrible smell outside of our room."  I said. He looked mildly surprised. "Oh? Yes, yes. The restaurant was having a problem today. It should be fine soon. Just shut your window and run the air conditioner."

I told him we’d like another room.  He took a perfunctory look at his reservation book. "No, I haven’t anything else," And then after a brief pause. "You could stay upstairs."  I wanted to check the room first so he took me into a small, depressing room much like the one we were  staying in (minus the smell) By this point, HC and OSFO had joined me. OSFO liked the fact that we could park the car outside of the smelly room so she lobbied for us to just stay put.

"Really. You won’t smell anything for long. Just put on the air conditioner." the motel manager advised. So we decided to stay in the room. The air conditioner did bury the odor quite a bit and we were able to sleep undisturbed by the toxic smell outside.

The next morning the smell was worse. But we had to run off to our friend’s 10th anniversary Jubilee. We didn’t give the smell another thought except to ask friends who were also staying at the motel if they smelled the smell. They didn’t. But that was because they were staying in Upper High Bop.

High Bop, we decided, included the rooms nearest to the office and lobby building. But as you walked down hill to what we called Lower Skytop the smell was readily apparent.

Smellsville. That’s what we coined High Bop when we got back to the hotel at 11 p.m on Saturday night. It actually smelled worse than before. But because we had the air conditioner running all day it didn’t smell too badly in the room. I buried myself in my book and HC and the OSFO watched "The Fifth Element" on television. I slept fairly soundly except I had an extensive dream about an athletic event in a sewer.

This morning it still smelled in High Bop As we drove away after checking out we passed a picturesque meadow just seconds from the motel’s driveway. At the center of the meadow was an aerator-digester, and the outflow pipes to a settling pond of a small sewage treatment plant.

"So that’s the problem," HC shouted out. "There’s a sewage treatment plant on the premises."

I thought back to my encounter with the manager the first night of our stay. "Oh? Yes, yes, the restaurant was having a problem today. It should be fine
soon. Just shut your window and run the air conditioner."

Restaurant my ass. I imagine that he’s heard that complaint again and again. Probably nightly. And he has to come up with new excuses. Or maybe he just repeats the same one. The old stand by.

Correct me if I am wrong, Mr. Motel Man. If that smell was an anomaly I’d like to know. If HC is wrong about the sewage treatment plant on the premises, let us know.

But this weekend, the High Bop was Smellsville.

*Name has been changed.