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Motel Hotel Holiday Inn
by Michele Christopher
I will be the first to admit that sometimes I don't make the best choices in life. Long term goals, I'm pretty good at. You know, the sitting down and figuring things out and what will happen in the future, I'm good at that stuff. But as far as spur of the moment things, I kinda suck. i just kinda go with what I feel and let the chips fall where they fall. Someone is gonna pick up the pieces but it sure as fuck isn't going to be me.
I had my plan and i was sticking to it. The only question is, when that plan goes into effect. That has always been my problem. I'll help anyone and give them any advice I can offer I can tell them what I would do in their situation, but when it comes to taking my own advice, it's like taking a crap with no toilet paper. It works, but it's gonna be messy.
So as the day grew closer to leaving, I thought about how I was go into do this. I hired a couple of crackheads or potheads, hell if I know, to help me throw out everything that couldn't fit into my car. We dragged out furniture and I took what I could hold. I really can't describe the feeling of loading up what you need and throwing out what you want.
See, I'm a long term thinker. I blame my dad and his experimental medical shots in the 70s for the way I am today. Or maybe it's because I stopped giving a fuck about anything about myself many years ago. All i knew was I snagged two cushions off the sofa as it was being dragged out and made a bed in the back of the car. Loading up all my stuff, I needed to think. When you see a Google map that says "turn left onto I-80, proceed for 2300 miles," things click in your head.
Are you really going to sleep in your car the whole way?
Michele said no.
The hell with that. I've done this before.
What the hell did i get myself into?
More clothes were loaded into the car and my cushions were perfect. I could sleep on the road. Fuck, I've done it before. But, this was different. No music. No dog. No nothing. No more nothing. I gave my old friends my stereo equipment and just kept what I needed. Sold some stuff and hit the road. I had a handful of Ativan to get me to sleep at night and i was gone.
It seemed so simple. So easy. That's what i thought until I hit the 500 mile mark and needed to sleep. Searching around I found a rest stop and rest stops work. No one fucks with you in a rest stop unless you want to get laid or buy speed, so everything was cool. Or so I thought. The cushion idea was gone. It was just a pipe dream I had one night watching tv. They were now buried in tons of material that had shifted as i was driving. I popped an Ativan and just tried to make the night go away.
2:00. Still no sleep.
See with Ativan, you have a very small window to fall down. If you miss that window, it's pretty much over. My body has a very strange reaction of working with drugs. I know that window and I need to exploit it as much as possible. When I feel the haze coming on, I need to start thinking about Gomer Pyle and his latent sexuality or something about Don Knotts or i can't sleep.
Well Gomer and Barney Fife didn't work. So i hit the road again.
Let me start off by saying a lot of prescription pills say don't drive while you are on them. That's all well and good, but I had to keep moving. What do doctors know anyway?
The fog rolled in and my eyes were trailing everything i was looking at. Seeing wasn't the problem. Comprehension was. I know that if I got pulled over, they were prescription pills. I have no issues there. But staying on the road was my biggest concern.
I pulled over at another rest stop to try to get an hour in. Something. Anything. I was scratching like a tweaker wondering where i was at.
Passing out on the road is not a good thing.
The next night the cushions were thrown out and i hit the cheap motels.
Little lesson for you all.
Always listen to Michele.