Through Hell And Buffalo, Texas – An Epic Journey – Part 3

(Need to catch up? Go here for Part 1 and here for Part 2.)

I went in search of somewhere to stay for the night. In a town of 1600, I wasn’t sure what I would find. With a car running on battery power only, I didn’t want to attempt driving any further than I had to.

I grabbed some fried chicken from a drive-thru, then crossed the highway and found a motel with the “vacancy” sign lit. It looked a little Norman Bates-ish, but I decided to ignore it. All I wanted by then was dinner, a glass of wine, and a hot bath. I walked into the lobby and was greeted by a raspy smoker’s voice “Whatcha need?”

“I need a non-smoking room for just tonight.” I answered.

The rotund clerk stepped out from the back room, stubbed out a cigarette, and looked me over from head to toe. “You alone?”

“No,” I lied. “My husband is with me.”

The clerk leaned forward and looked at my car. “Is he invisible? I don’t see him.” and then snorted once in laughter.

“I left him to pick up dinner.” I said. “A non-smoking room?” I pushed my driver’s license and credit card across the desk.

A few keyboard clicks later, I was on my way to room 106. It faced away from the street and toward a broken half-fallen down wood fence. I opened the door and was assaulted by the smell of stale cigarettes and the even stronger stench of marijuana. The room might have been “non-smoking” but no one had bothered to tell the previous guests that. I thought about calling the front desk to complain, but decided against it. Dinner, bath, and a glass of wine.

Across the street from the hotel was a big-ish gas station. The bright yellow front was familiar and comforting because of it. I decided to run across the street rather than walk, because with my luck the car would die in their parking lot and further complicate things. I stepped back into the mist, thought “glass of wine”, and made a dash for it.

I scanned the inside of the convenience store for the liquor section. I was surely not the first person driven to drink by Buffalo, Texas…after all, I’d seen Bill in nearly all his glory. But there wasn’t one. No beer. None of those little wine glasses with the plastic on top. Not a bottle of anything. I just knew I was missing something, and waited in line for the clerk.

“Wine?” I asked hopefully. “The little single serve glasses? Red/white doesn’t matter. Where would I find them.”

The clerk’s face drooped. He shook his head and said apologetically, “We don’t have any, ma’am. This is a dry county.”

Of course it was.

I grabbed a Dr Pepper and a Moon Pie – Texas comfort food – and trudged back to Room 106. There was no reason to hurry. You reach a tipping point of “this is as wet as I can get,” and I was there.

Once back in my room, I changed into my pajamas and tried to figure out why the room was so blasted cold. The heater was turned off. Genius. I cranked it on, but other than the smell of burning dust, there was no proof it was working. I added a second pair of socks and tried to stop shivering.

I warmed up the chicken and fries in the microwave. I ate dinner curled up under the blankets. There were only a dozen channels on the TV – local, wether, sports, news, and a classic movie channel. The movie was something with Clark Gable, so I watched the end of it.

The heater finally decided that I really did want the room to be warm and began working. Once I stopped shivering, I decided that a hot bath was what I needed. I pulled back the shower curtain and saw that the tub was without a stopper. Smoke smell I could live with, cold could be withstood, but no bath was my final straw. I called the front desk and reported the lack of a stopper in the room. Could I switch rooms, or did they have one at the front desk.

“No stoppers in any of them,” the gravelly voice said. “Some guy flooded his room last summer so we took them all out. Take a shower instead.” and the phone disconnected.

Perfection.

With no other options than where I was, I dragged the table and three chairs in front of the door. The desk clerk was sketchy, and I was alone on my side of the place. I was done taking chances.

It was nearly 9:00 and I was laughing in that way that’s wrapped up with crying and you can’t figure out how you feel any longer.

I tweeted: