Filed under: North America, United States, Traveling the American Road
Somewhere around Indiana and Pacific avenues, I had a sinking feeling. Atlantic City seemed to consist entirely of strip clubs and skin dens, convenience stores and empty store fronts. The beach was a few blocks away, true. But would a sparkling bit of ocean be enough to make the uneasy feeling in my stomach subside? This seaside resort, stacked with casino resorts dwarfed by their cousins in Las Vegas, did not look promising as I drove up to my hotel.
It was a dive of a place, recommended to me by a fellow travel writer, and someone I think of as an Atlantic City aficionado. He told me to try the Inn at the Irish Pub, a spot perched precariously above a dark watering hole, emphasis on the hole, that's open 24 hours a day. The hotel is the sort of place that charges a deposit of $5 when you're handed a brass key fastened to a plastic yellow diamond, stamped with a number.
I hiked up the stairs to my room, whose bathroom connected to the room next door, and flopped on the lumpy bed. I needed to call my friend, Robert Reid, and ask him if he'd set me up for an elaborate travelers' joke, sending me to the inn to see if I'd actually go.
Continue reading Atlantic City Is a Hard Place to Love
Atlantic City Is a Hard Place to Love originally appeared on Gadling on Mon, 04 Jul 2011 16:00:00 EST. Please see our terms for use of feeds.
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