Stuck out here seven miles north of downtown in Hotel Land.
Up today at 3:19am waaaaaay tooooo early to catch a 6am plane.
Here's a name for you:
Emma Mae Suggs Calhoun
Gleaned from a bar conversation with a man (progenitor of Miss Georgia 2006) who claimed to have sold more hotels than anyone on the planet. Emma Mae was his great-grandmother, and if I ever become a Southern Novelist she will be my main character:
Emma Mae Suggs Calhoun.
But from the looks of it, I might as well just work her into a poem
because me + southern fiction ≠ anything.
The bellboy (or bellman, as it happened), wanted to know
if we were pleased with the results of our Washington state election.
Tee hee! He giggled as he left.
The hotel salesman told us that he came from generations of southern farmers
who always had a side crop of cannabis, for "spending money".
The farther away from home one goes, the smaller the world becomes.