From the Red Roof Inn in Charlottesville, Va.:

(This was written last night in the town where UVA is. I'm in Nashville now.) 

The hotel room is throbbing. I can’t tell what the constant mechanical thrumming is, but it seems to come from the very walls. The heartbeat of the hotel, if the hotel were being attacked by wolves. Or thought it was in the midst of a wolf attack, after taking an overambitious dose of acid. 

I figure two things will happen before I fall asleep. I’ll get used to the noise, like a bad smell, or I’ll go to the corner store for a big bottle of Nyquil. 

God. It couldn’t be worse unless I was feeling guilty about murdering someone and hiding their dismembered parts in the walls. Didn’t Edgar Allen Poe go to the University of Virginia? How fitting. 

CG dropped me off this afternoon before heading to his grandparents’ house in the hinterlands. I’m not there because, one, I don’t like old people and, two, they wouldn’t like their grandson cavorting about the country with a common hussy. Fair enough.

It just occurred to me that I’m eight hours from home, without a car, and my ride doesn’t have cell service out there in the mountains. 

Anyway. Last night we were in Manhattan. The Doubletree upgraded us to a junior suite, an 18th-floor room with a concrete balcony and little signs explaining everything. The sheets and duvet have been laundered. The tub is anti-slip, but if you’d like a bathmat, call housekeeping at x803. You may pick up anything from the minibar for 20 seconds before it is automatically charged to your room. 

Nice, though. We went to an Irish pub, a restaurant with live jazz, a gay (as in rainbows, not lame) piano bar and a new wave dance party. 

This morning we got on the road early, after CG learned what I’m like in between being woken up and eating. It’s unpleasant or something ...  

Nashville tomorrow night. Last time I was there, I was too tired to go out and in the morning was greatly disappointed by the status of the Grand Ole Opry, which was facing an Old Navy and Bed, Bath and Beyond. Although I hear that’s not the real one, which is relieving. But hopefully there’ll be a Cracker Barrel involved again. Can’t get enough of that. 

With any luck, my stomach will settle, I won’t hear the throbbing, the people in the next room will finally go out and I can fall asleep.