September 29, 2016
A quarter to 6:00p – Motel 8 – room 217 – rain
This place is the real deal.
My intention was to drive all the way to New York City today but there is a strange noise coming from the front driver’s side wheel on my truck so I am apprehensive about driving in the dark. So instead I stop driving and have a slice of berry pie and a cup of coffee and decide to hang out and I’m not disappointed.
Char is the name of the Motel 8 front desk woman who checks me in and she has the charm only a 300+ pound toothless woman can have.
“Would you care for a smoking or nonsmoking room?” she asks. I am surprised a smoking room was still an option. Surprised and impressed. I tell her this and she tells me people can smoke inside the bars here, too. Excellent.
A small, brown spotted dog is laying on a well-worn chair on a floral pillow behind her. It’s a cute dog and I get the impression that it has probably been laying there for a long, long time.
My room is spacious for 45 dollars. I use a metal house key to get in. There is one queen-sized bed, a television and a small table with two chairs. A couple of ashtrays, too.
I’m pleased to be alone here, but do think it’d be nice to have some company if for no other reason than for them to share in the glory of this monochromatically flesh-colored stale cigarette smoke smelling space. A dying breed.
Char says I have good timing because there is a craft festival happening this week and “everyone will be here.”
I’m not yet sure who “everyone” is but I can imagine them and am looking forward to having a look.
The paper is called The Clarion Mirror, which has a certain finesse to it that I like.
I think I might purchase a pack of shitty cigarettes and smoke inside and get the full effect of Clarion – really immerse myself.
… To be continued
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