After spending the night at my uncle's, Dennis and I drove non-stop to Baton Rouge. We arrived in the evening and chose to stay in a motel that advertised a pool. The manager, an immensely overweight man, invited us to join him for a swim. He had us follow him, then proceeded to strip down to the tiny thong - not something many American men were even aware of at the time - and bellyflopped into a small, filthy bit of water. Smiling like the cheshire cat, he asked us to: "C'mon in boys!". We declined . . . and high-tailed it back to our room where we put one of my uncle's tips to use - shoved a high-backed chair underneath the doorhandle before we went to sleep.
Sure enough, about 3 in the morning we woke to hear the sound of keys in our lock and a voice softly saying: " C'mon now boys, I know you're in there . . . and why won't this door open?". He finally gave up. After quickly gathering our bags, Dennis and I snuck out and took off, New Orleans in our sights!