White Sands National Monument (not sure why they call it a monument?) was very beautiful--and I shared it with about fifteen people on this quiet Monday.
Oh wait...
The door in Room 113 wouldn't open without the help of maintenance each time I went out....
Okay, no big deal.
Then the bathtub, it turns out, didn't hold water, and anyway there was no water forthcoming to be held--just a tiny stream, not enough to wash one's hands, let alone one's hair.
Then about 10:30--as I was talking myself into letting go of those minor inconveniences, the carpet cleaners in the rooms above 113 started roaring and grinding, the carpet cleaning people pounding on the floors, dancing or fighting, it wasn't clear which. I called to ask for a new room and am now quietly relaxing in Room 127.
By then, though, I was wide awake and went to the Walmart down the road to get a few provisions for tomorrow: mostly Reeses and milk and Diet Cokes. A young man named Angelo wanted to help me find my stuff; he also wanted to tell me his life story and give me advice about Ruidoso. "Don't even think about going 56 in a 55 unless you want a $200 ticket," he said, launching into his stories of bad policemen in Ruidoso. I was grateful for the advice--as I believe I may have already exceeded the speed limit a couple of times today.
1 comment:
You may be traveling solo, but I am enjoying traveling along with you through your posts.
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