With a quiet reverence, we observed the place deteriorating, not only by the flooding and decay, but through the damaged caused by its human visitors.  People come in and senselessly smash furniture and windows; nature, on the other hand, slowly reclaims the space.  Vines slowly overtake the grounds and creep in through broken windows, and mold slowly eats.
In addition to the destruction, I also found it to be a place of great beauty – the floor-to-ceiling windows in the dining hall, its brightly colored carpets, its large wooden dance floor.  With the right ear, the water flowing through the basement and under the dance floor sounds like a small stream in the forest.  Mushrooms begin to grow out of the floorboards.
The Best Choice sits right on the west coast's pulsing main artery of capitalism: Interstate 5.  Sound is drowned out by its constant dull roar.  It sits in juxtaposition to the quiet emptiness of the abandoned building.  A once bustling motel, restaurant, and event space is now only visited by animals, junkies looking for a place to slam or sleep, and the occasional delinquent teenager.  Spending time there, I find myself ruminating on the "American Dream," waste, our consumerist society, social stratification, and the place of humanity in the world.  Is all of our modern convenience really worth the social and environmental suffering that our systems are built upon?  What fulfillment do we really get from our endless array of "choices," and at what cost?  Is the subsiding of our modern age and the reclamation of the world by nature, perhaps, the best choice?  Where do we go from here?