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my comfort zone. To do something that would make my heart race, to make me stumble for words, to make me see the world in all its glory. Our finances have never been what one would call stellar and these past few years have been kind of rough, it’s undoubtedly planted an endless seed of debt into our pockets. This trip would be my poor man’s journey. A poor man with a rented Toyota Highlander.
    That was part of the deal, travel in something that gave my dad peace of mind. I’m sure right now his mind is not at peace because I’ve had the first rental break down and the second stolen all within forty-eight hours. And since I’m so hip on jumping off the beaten path I decide to drive right on past the Hampton Inn and park at a hotel called El Rancho.
    If dad could see how this novel quirky little place looked he’d question my sanity. I read somewhere that this historic hotel has roomed famous movie stars like John Wayne, Kirk Douglas, and even Humphrey Bogart. Back in the day it was a headquarters for movie productions, old timey movies like Ace in the Hole and Sundown.
    I peek up to the glowing yellow sign above the entrance, watching as the first flashing neon letter H switches to the letter M— Hotel—Motel , “Charm of Yesterday, Convenience of Tomorrow.”
    I grab my things and waltz into a rustic themed lobby filled with memorabilia from the past. Imagining my own feet following the same footsteps of some the world’s most influential movie stars. Framed autographed photos adorn the county western walls, some of the actors and actresses I had no clue who they are. I spot an original faded black and white picture of the place with words stating it’s the world’s largest ranch house, and from the early photo I had no doubt that it was. Gorgeous, vivid Navajo rugs garnish the roughhewn wooden floors and hang perfectly along the railings of the stairs. I check-in and head for my room, my feet slow at a snail’s pace as I stride by a room numbered 107 with Lucille Ball’s name displayed across the top. Next, I come to a complete stop when I arrive at my room, 109 with Doris Day’s name fashioned above it. I’m assuming each door labeled with a star’s name had at some point slept a night or two here, in the actual room. I wonder if my luck might have changed because after all I still had that intriguing dream of Humphrey earlier today.
    I retrace my eager steps and politely ask the desk clerk for his room, and low and behold, she offers me a key, just like that.
    Maybe it’s my ‘ sign ’ that things are changing for the better and the universe isn’t so cruel after all.
    My bubble of hope pops once my eyes scan the small dark room. “Okay, you want to see the resilience of a woman scorned?” I swing my suitcase on the oddly narrow runty tiny bed and start unpacking. Jerking out a pair of lightweight cotton plaid pajamas, I dig behind the semi-folded clothes and yank my laptop free from the rubble of mismatched bras and panties. Impatiently, I huff a strand of hair from my view and search for the nearest outlet, my hands working double time to unwind the cord and I plug it in. I flip my laptop open, type the password as fast as humanly possible and wait.
    And wait…
    And wait…
    And wait…
    And wait…
    Okay, maybe the Wi-Fi here is in cahoots with the universe. I puff out an exasperated sound and just as I’m about to flop my head on the lifeless keyboard, the glorious vibrant Google insignia appears. I immediately enter a song that I don’t have on my road trip playlist and unmute the volume. Alabama Shakes sings a coarse and gruff tune titled, ‘Always Alight’. I clutch my bathroom essentials and sing right along in my small rinky dink shower.

Chapter 5
     
    “No one knows what’s next, but everybody does it.”
    —George Carlin
     
     
    I’m sitting cross-legged , trying to keep my back from slouching, palms open and resting on either bent knee. I inhale a slow breath and attempt to