While sitting on the gantry awaiting the launch moment, astronauts admit that it occurs to them that every single nut and bolt was provided by the lowest bidder.

The very same dread seeps into my mind every year as I wander down Route 41 in Fort Myers in search of this year’s motel, obtained for the lowest price on hotel.com., Hotwire.com or the like. Naturally, I take the cheapest rate.

This year I pulled into the once-familiar franchise (I will omit the name because of lawsuit potential) and signed in.

The very first thing I noticed was the desk warning that “locals” were required to provide a $100 deposit against damage to the room. If the aforementioned “locals” were ejected from the room for any reason, the $100 deposit would be forfeited.

Hmmmm.

The second thing was the discarded crack pipe at the entrance to the motel room door.

The third thing was the “palmetto bug” running from the light in the bathroom. It was killed and deposited in the toilet. Floridians call these insects “palmetto bugs,” while the rest of the world chooses the term “cockroaches.”

The fourth thing I noted was a 1944 Buick crawling across the bedroom ceiling at about 3 a.m. This bug, another cockroach, this of the 8-inch mutated variety, took two direct hits from a size 10 Nike sneaker before weakening and falling to the floor, where it was pummeled to death. I thought it was another Florida bug, but it had North Carolina plates.

I have very few standards. But they were all violated.

My next thought was to check out as soon as possible and look for a new, upscale motel.

Then I remembered that the room cost only $45 a night, thanks to Hotwire.com. Because Fashionably Bohemian Bob was coming down from Owls Head to share the room, it would cost me about $25 a night, tax included. Then I remembered I had season tickets to Red Sox spring training games about five blocks away. When the Red Sox win the World Series every century or so, Fort Myers hotel room costs go through the roof. Most were more than $200 – a night.

I slept on the decision, waking several times to imaginary bugs crawling across my perfect body.

In the morning, there was free breakfast and free newspapers, which I read by the pool. As more and more Red Sox (and a few Minnesota Twins) fans showed up at the pool, the place became more like home.

I wandered across Route 41 (a dangerous exercise) to find Mel’s Diner, which had the best home fries ever.

That afternoon, I discovered Smoothie Central, a short walk away, which featured a breathtaking variety of fruit, yogurt and sherbet mixtures. Dunkin’ Donuts (best coffee in the world) was down the street.

Better.

Then, when Fashionably Bohemian Bob showed up with his hacking New England cough, we explored Ozzie’s bar, even closer than the smoothie joint.

Ozzie’s is run by the highly personable Jim and Teddy Osborne. These lads have the very good taste to play Motown on the sound system around the clock. They also hire Verceal Whitaker (Teddy’s squeeze) and keyboard genius Al Holland to provide live Motown entertainment several night a week, when New Hampshire’s John Wallace is not singing karaoke and driving patrons from the room.

A ballgame routine developed. We’d come from the park to Ozzie’s and buy “buckets of beer” with five frosty bottles for $10. This compares to $6.50 per frosty brown bottle at the Red Sox ball park. You do the math. One night Ozzie’s sold 150 buckets of beer. We didn’t buy them all.

Gradually, the idea of looking for another place to stay lost its appeal. After one more pineapple twist smoothie by the pool, the idea of moving was officially voted down.

In fact, an inquiry was made about available rooms for next year.

I would go as high as $50 per night. And I will bring a baseball bat for the “palmetto bugs” – and that 1944 Buick.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.