Chapter 5- In Which We Learn Who Else Snores

Claire and Steve go off to work, their daughters go off to school. We dally briefly and then get on the highway heading east. It's another travel-only day in which we mean to get ourselves not only to Texas, but across the dang state all the way to Abilene. It's far--hundreds o'miles. Get along little dogies.

We zip through Southeastern Arizona and cross into Texas. While we fly through El Paso, I catch some glimpses of the dusty hilly streets of Juarez, Mexico on the right. Past the freeway interchange knots and strip-mall constellations, we presently move into a region of desert ruled by high winds and black stormclouds wheeling slowly across horizons. I hug my pillow and drift into fitful sleep for a few minutes at a time. I'm getting hungry.

We stop at a gas station and Andrew is delighted to discover a whole line of Doritos super-spicy chips and he buys them all. One flavor is called something like, "Explode Your Head", another is,"Detonate the Neighborhood", and the final threatening flavor is, "Thermonuclear War" (well...maybe not those exact words). When we get back in the car Andrew cracks open the mildest one. I sample one--a single chip makes my eyes water. Delish. Ouch.

We drive on.

We hit Odessa, TX at dinnertime and end up at a pretty decent Mexican restaurant that us slightly fast-foody, but with really good chips and tortillas. The salsa bar is impressive too--with smokey hot, green, and mild options. Yum.

We drive on. We see patterns of red lights out in the unknowable distance at various heights. Finally, we put it together that these lights are connected to windmills, but in the dark they appear to float like unquiet souls in the ether.

We drive on. The night is long, the darkness thick, and Texas big.

At 1:30 am we get to our destination--a Motel 6 in Abilene. As Andrew finalizes the paperwork, Gary and I notice a chart inside the vending machine. There are certain items that have a stylized green leaf icon to indicate they are lowfat. The granola bars have a leaf. The fig newtons have a leaf. And so do the condoms. Haha. Some joker.

Andrew gets his own room in which to snore. Gary and I are roommates. We can't seem to agree on whether or not the heat should be on, so we compromise--I get the bed next to the heater which is turned off--which makes perfect sense to us at this hour and condition of sleep-deprivation. I apply preemptive earplugs and slip into blessed unconsciousness. Gary is awakened in the wee hours by a peculiar purring sound. It is me. Snoring.

I wake myself up
It turns out that I snore too
Throw pillows at me