As I sit in the car, cruising down the west bound 287 out of Texas, I am inspired to try my hand...or rather fingers...at some mobile blogging. Thank goodness for a phone with a full keyboard. We'll see how long I last until my hands and fingers begin to cramp from going one little letter at a time.
Driving home is always an interesting drive, mixed with the intense boredom of west Texas. I have come to the conclusion that hell would be having to live in one of these very small drive-through-in-one-minute towns between Dallas and Amarillo. There is nothing in these towns save the dairy queen (that EVERY town has in TX regardless of size), some kind of quickie mart, an antique store, and a liquor store. It's in these towns, that I only have to assume. football is the event of the year. I love football, but to have that as my only social outlet...yeesh. Granted, I grew up in small town usa. I didn't have a name until close to the end of high school. It was always, "Oh you're (fill in family member's name) daughter/granddaughter/sister/niece." This was only to my advantage post-graduating when my younger cousin's received the above "oh you are..." with an added, Crystal's cousin. Family senior portraits line the office and A wing halls, haunting the youngest of our brood with each step.
Little Hollywood is small and I managed to be from a family that was well known. To even entertain the notion of any sort of shenanigans was ridiculous. Word was usually to mom and dad before the thought was fully formed in my head. Unfortunately/fortunately during high school this "notoriety" extended south to Santa Fe. Somehow the police force down on the plaza, where I hung out with my friends on Friday and Saturday nights, started identifying me by name. Was I a mischievous youth in trouble with the fuzz? Hardly. Squeaky clean and naive was more my MO. My uncle had recently taken over as the head of Parks and Rec for the state and everyone knew him. He's a very likable and congenial kind of man. I had shared with him that I was hanging out on the plaza (no, mom and dad didn't know) and he saw to it that I was well protected. Though slightly annoyed as a 16 year old, in hindsight I'm very thankful because the plaza corner where we all converged could get shady...three SF high schools and several rival gangs in one place. But I digress...
West Texas is nothing short of boring and flat. The only enjoyment I find in driving through West Texas is all the antique shops, and in the spring and summer, the fresh produce stands with the most incredible peaches ever. The curious thing about these antique shops is that no matter what day, no matter what time you drive through the towns where they are, they are never open. This is speaking from 15+ years of driving Amarillo to DFW, DFW to Amarillo. Mom and I have been lucky a couple of times, always finding the treasures of the century inside.
Over the years Brad and I have stayed in every town west of Amarillo, en route to Los Alamos. The first time he came home with me we stayed at the "Fifth Season Inn." Um, yeah, if that wasn't a clue. To say the room was scary is an understatement. It was a brisk 40 degrees at least, and the weather stripping to the door was gone. We could feel the breeze coming in all night. Brad and I were snuggled each in a mummy bag with the dog between us. The sheets on the bed were a little too disconcerting to even think about touching with out skin. When we turned on the heater a strange aroma filled the room and we both got silly and dizzy. Did we really just pay $75 for this room?! We were there for a total of 6 hrs. Rolling in around 11 pm and leaving bright and early at 5 am. Why we didn't just continue on the night before, is beyond me. Our second room in the top 10 crappiest hotel rooms was in Tucumcari. This time we actually called ahead to the Hilton in Tucumcari. They assured us that we had a room secured. When we got there, it was a whole 'nother story. We are so sorry, we accidentally just gave your room away *eyebrows raised and the urge to start yelling overwhelming me*. But we'd be happy to set you up with a room at our sister property that is just as nice. I don't remember the name of the "sister property" it was that scaring. Needless to say, when we got there, we were afraid to touch ANYTHING! The only redeeming factor is that it was actually heated, unlike the 5th season inn. The wall paper was peeling, the decor was full on 70s kitsch...complete with velvet Elvis-like framed "art." The clincher was the brown water that came out of the faucet when we turned it on. I thought...oh, rusty pipes and let it run for about 10 min. Nope, still brown. We called the front office and were assured it was potable water. Another 6hr stay and we blazed out of there before the sun hit the horizon in the morning, stopping at the local McDonald's to brush our teeth and wash our faces. My mother, bless her heart, felt bad for us both times and paid for our rooms on the return trip to Dallas. We stayed at the very nice and comfortable Hampton Inn, complete with clean bed linens, heat, and carpets I'm not afraid to step on without shoes. Instead of trying to be cost conscious these days, we stay in the Hampton. Though really, we've scored awesome rates every time and they have a great continental breakfast. So word to the wise, if you want to stay somewhere on your trip east to NM from Dallas, take our well-traveled advice and hit the Hampton Inn on Amarillo's East Side. You won't be sorry. P.S. They take dogs too.
Okay, my fingers and hand are cramping.
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