So I'm staying tonight at a Day's Inn somewhere in western Kansas. And I wander down to the pool-spa room. Somehow a time warp intruder. There are these three guys in there. Two have got to be brothers. Shaggy white beards and gray curly hair. The third has shaved his head and sport a gray goatee. They have been drinking a bit. An empty case of light beer and an empty 12 pack of something else are on the floor by their table. Brother 1 is classic in his bib overalls and massive belly. Brother 2 is more hip in his shorts, t-shirt and flip flops.
They are arguing up a storm. And in a variation of English. I can make out about one word in tenL mother-effer is the one I catch most frequently. Friends, women and men, white and black, come and go. Some replentish the beer supply.
Later I go outside to walk to the Chinese Buffet which the desk clerk assures me I can reach hopping on one leg. Parked outside the hotel are bikes and cars. They have got to belong to these guys. They are works of art. Kisch, I grant you. But works of art all the same. One is devoted to Looney Toon characters, another (inevitably) to death, the reaper, skulls... all that. One car dates from the forties. Bogey maybe owned one like it.
Americana.
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