Tropical Storm Elsa decided to take the same route we had planned for our final leg of the journey. If you thought US 95 through Connecticut couldn’t possibly get worse, put a massive rotating low-pressure system on the road with a flood of weekend traffic fleeing Manhattan. We closely watched the NOAA radar and drove north to US 84. As the eye of the storm passed over our destination, we made our way east on its heels.
The highway was eerily quiet. We passed through remnant cells of thunderstorms crossing the Hudson River and climbing the final highlands before descending into Connecticut, but it would be the only raindrops to fall from the sky. The pavement never dried between New York and Rhode Island.
Leaving The Inn at Jim Thorpe, a small envelope was placed on the nightstand between our room’s two queen beds. If we appreciated the absence of bed bugs, thought the floor was shiny, and found the bathroom to be free of other people’s hair, we could safely part with some cash for the chambermaid. Upon closer inspection of the envelope, the name of our hotel worker shared something in common with our day’s travel companion…and we decided it would be good karma to leave Elsa a tip.