Checking in at motel 6… A nasty, pasty, soft fleshed check in person.
“You can wait.” She snarled as I stood at the desk.
“Is there hot water in the room for tea?” I asked.
“Yeah, in the sink.”
I imagined how awful it must be to work nights at motel 6. Up all night, before returning to the mobile home park
“You heading back to NM tomorrow?” She spat at my sister Debby.
(Debby, is from Santa Fe, traveling with me, taking care of the temperamental tooth-sore author.)
“No, up to Portland.” replied Debby
“What’s there?”
“She,” Debby said pointing at me, “is a writer. She’s going to Portland for a reading.”
“At Powell’s?” .
“Yes. Then to Seattle for 2 readings and back to Wordstock for signing.”
” I so wanted to go to the reading at Powells and Wordstock!
I’m a total book-a-holic.”
“I never head that word before,” said a fat bald kid at the check out counter.
“I made it up.
Are you Danbert, Alice or E.E. King?”
“EE King.”
“Here’s your name! Can you autograph this for me?”! she squealed, thrusting a newspaper into my hand.
Ah the magic of the written word
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