Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Amarillo by Morning

I think I am overtired.  My whole body hurts.  I feel weepy.

This downward slide started at home the day after returning from Omaha.  I was sick.  I woke in the middle of the night and broke into a sweat.  I don't even sweat when I am exercising.  And this is not your 40+ year old woman garden variety night sweat.  I am afraid I am going to pass out.  I wake up my husband.

A few hours later after serious contemplation of a 9-1-1 call, I am back in bed.  The next day, my chest hurts, it is hard to breathe and I feel a general unwellness.  We go to an urgent care facility to see if we can rule out a heart attack and/or confirm food poisoning.  They decide on pneumonia.  I am not coughing and have no other symptoms that make this a reasonable diagnosis.  We go home.  I fly to Amarillo.

Amarillo is how I expected Omaha to be.  Flat and uninspiring.

My flight is delayed.  My seat on the plane is broken and a metal rod is poking the back of my thigh the whole time.  The man next to me spends the whole flight ripping pages from his collection of Guns & Ammo and Car & Driver magazines and stuffing them in the seat-back pocket.  The flight attendant fawns on him when she comes with the beverage cart.  Would he like a drink?  Did I give you enough ice?  Would he like a snack (complimentary even though they aren't)?  I think the flight attendant wanted HIM for HER snack.  She only looks at me and waits for me to assume she is prepared for my drink request that is clearly an inconvenient distraction from her preferred occupation of wooing my seatmate.

When the plane landed I momentarily panicked:  Am I supposed to be in Amarillo?  Is this week Lubbock?  No...definitely Amarillo...calm down.  My rental car is uncomfortable.  My Hampton Inn is obviously a converted Motel 6.  The room doors have been moved inside but there is no elevator and I am on the 2nd floor.  In my room there are long black hairs on the shower wall.  The television gets spotty reception and there is no remote control.  Internet is a crap shoot.

I tried to improve my mood by going to see the Cadillac Ranch.  

These 1949-1963 Cadillacs are buried nose down at the angle relating to the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt.

The cars are currently spray painted and visitors bring (and unfortunately sometimes leave) paint to add their own mark.  The cars have been painted solid black to commemorate the death of one of the artists and other colors for various reasons but the graffiti returns quickly.

A couple that walked out before me offered me a half-empty can of green paint.  They found it on the ground.  I made my mark...get it?  NO L?  

The installation was moved once and currently resides on private land that is also a cow pasture.  There is a gate in the barb-wire fence for visitors to pass through.

Keeping an eye on a nearby cow.

I didn't see any other sights that day.  On Saturday it was nearly 100 degrees here.  On Monday it was in the mid 60s and the wind was blowing about 50 miles an hour.  I went back to my sad little hotel room to prepare for my time with my customer.

Did I mention it is flat here?

I really want to go home.  I don't feel good.  I think I am coming down with something.  Probably pneumonia.

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