Man I'm tired of writing on this blog. I think I know why. Here's where I left off.

Louisiana was lush. I liked the look of it, all the trees and the wet wind slapping around. It rained the entire time I was there. I drove across the northern part of it. Parts were crowded, parts were empty, but it was the same road. That's how it goes on DA ROAD.

I decided I would camp. I looked in my campbook and found a place that was 1) nearby 2) free. I planned to get there at 7. But I spent 3.5 hours looking for it. I never did find it, though again I wasn't lost. This was just like my last attempt to camp. It was dark, I was in an unknown place, it was more frustrating than anything else. (One difference here was that the campsite I wanted in Georgia was located near a Civil War memorial thing--some camp where 30,000 soldiers died horrible deaths in captivity. So maybe it was for the best that I never found it)

The rain got worse, and in frustration I just picked the first hotel I found. It was a Sleep Inn, and I found out that my UF alumni thingy allowed me a 10% discount. But the man at the front desk told me I had to make a reservation on the internets if I wanted the discount. And the room would be $95. javascript:void(0)

What happens when you are tired and when it is raining is: you spend money.

It was an absurdly luxurious room, considering the Secret Passage Dumphole in GA. So many linens--so, so, many linens. I should have taken a picture but I was lazy. And we've all been in semi-upscale chain hotels. So instead I ate tuna and watched Witness, starring Harrison Ford. I should have gone to bed but Witness is one of those movies that came out before I had consciousness, and it's like, not good enough to rent, but good enough that when you're in a hotel you watch it. Harrison Ford is great, and he exchanges so many sullen, lusty glances with the Amish lady of his desires.

I have no pictures of this day.

A motel to avoid, if possible

The mint lemonade was one of my best ideas, ever. Wylie will agree. Ten minutes before I left I realized I had no pictures of Gainesville so I took this of Wylie sweeping his porch. Actually I thought it was a picture but it was a video, because I can't quite work the camera.



I ended my stay in Gainesville with a plate of huevos asheros from my favorite good-timey old family restaurant, The Top. But I didn't get on the road until 4 or so, and then I took some amazing backcountry roads instead of 75 (which might actually be worse than 95, only for the constant "DISNEY WORLD COUPONS...FREE OJ!!!" billboards. This is all to say that it got dark really quickly and I wasn't close to Macon, GA, my next planned stop.

But here is a beautiful road going through an idyllic small town.



The AAA camp book said there was a good camping site in Anderson, GA, near a Civil War memorial, but to get there, I'd have to take some lonely farm roads in the dark. Now listen. I never got lost, never. I always knew where I was.

But it all took longer than I thought, and by the time I reached the CLOSED camp site, I was almost out of gas. Well, all right. I kept on, hoping for either gas or lodging. I found lodging first at the Budget Inn in Montezuma, GA.

I won't say how much I actually paid, because it shames me, but I can say how much the room should have cost: $8. The sheets had some impressive cigarette holes, there was tape around the bathtub. And the trashcan said "Holiday Inn." I'd love to know the story behind that.

Here is a picture of a secret door that was in the closet, and by closet, I mean a large recess in the wall sectioned off with a curtain on a rope.



And here is a picture of the kitchenette. I didn't use it, but its existence was the only reason I valued my room at $8 and not $3. It was greasy and the stovetop had saucers on the burners. Is that a southern thing?



I did not sleep well, but it wasn't because my sleeping bag was way too hot or because I was worried about being attacked. It was because the motel was 20 feet away from the train tracks and a train went by at least twice an hour, throughout the night. And also everytime I heard a car start up I was convinced someone was stealing my car. In hindsight that was a silly worry, because there was NO ONE AROUND FOR MILES AND MILES.

The next morning the motel manager shook my hand when I checked out. I didn't have the heart to tell him I fantasized about burning his establishment to the ground.

Gainesville is good, really

March 20-21

Has Gainesville always been filled with good-looking people? Yes, probably. Wylie, my host and very good friend, made banana pancakes this morning, and they were the banana-iest pancakes either of us had ever eaten.

Now we're in the library at my alma mater. The weather here--well. I don't think the locals appreciate it enough. I don't think I did, when I lived here. It's sunny, it's warm, there's a breeze, everyone is smiling. I wear my contacts and my sunglasses.

Later today we will probably sit on the porch. I want to make some mint lemonade, so I may do that. Though I have a tiny cut on my hand, and I could see this becoming a problem.

Because it was 30 degrees when I left Maryland, it didn't occur to me that packing chocolate chips in my trunk would be a bad idea. Luckily they are all in plastic bags.

Someone left her computer open at the library. She left her backpack, which is unwise. She also left while surfing facebook, and if she's not careful, I may go over there and write embarrassing things on her friends' walls.

My friend Jake encourages me to move on from Gainesville, not to dwell. I am a dweller by nature, but I promise him and I promise you and I promise myself, I will move on.