A woman, alone in a hotel room. Well, alone except for her mother.
There is no minibar, but I managed to drive to the local Aldi and procured Cheetos and wine. It's *that* kind of road trip.
I drank my first glass outside, smoking a cigarette by the pool while finishing the fourth Harry Potter novel. SPOILER ALERT: Voldemort RETURNS!!!!
The first local radio station the scan landed on began playing "Flying High Again" and the wild hairs began tickling my ass. Those Randy Rhodes years were good ones.
"Mama's gonna worry
I've been a bad, bad boy
No use saying sorry
It's something that I enjoy!"
Should I stop in the "O'Charley's" and have a drink? I managed to make it to the hotel, the siren song of WAY MANY TOO MANY CRAPPY CHAIN BARS visibly trying to pull the Volvo station wagon back towards their labryinthine parking lots. The Applebee's, the Smokey Bones, the Longhorn, the Outback and the HOOTERS for chrissakes, the HOOTERS, I PASSED THE HOOTERS.
{{it was calling my name! i would sit at the bar and read the harry potter book, drinking jim beam rocks with a beer chaser and wait}}
Next I made it past GANDER MOUNTAIN which is a "firearms super center"......{{groooooan what is that?!?!?!?}}
I made it. And as I drove past Gander Mountain, the radio played Sympathy for the Devil but BEFORE they did, they played this clip of a person the DJ called "Michael Phillip Jagger" (they are in the KNOW here in the fucking heartland, baby) talking about "inspiration for songwriting" and Mick fucking said this:
"You know, things stir other things. And sometimes, you know the subject can be really quite personal."
I swear to you, this is almost perfectly verbatim the pablum I was subjected to, before fucking SFTD.
And I thought of y'all. My Stonesian kin.