Latenight, bedside and manners
written 1 Oct 2006 in the late evening dusk
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I miss the dim lights, mauve walls and stale cigarette smoke of a welcome bed slapped dab in the middle of an overpriced dive motel in the middle of corn field America.
“Listen boys, here’s the deal,” the old man innkeeper behind the diner says, “we don’t have the HBO.” A large, neon sign glowing above him reads “Great Rates. Free HBO.” But I forgive him because hey, how often do you use the word innkeeper.
The buzz of a good roadtrip dulls in my memory more quickly every year… but the most hallowed of all evenings is on the way and I’m hoping to dress up like a pirate (mostly for the long haired wig!)
Time, like its friend the watch, will tell.
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