Delaware Hell

I left Boston in the same manner that I entered on back roads with traffic traveling into and onto my bumper. Sure they know where they are going but did? Several people had observed that I was the last Luddite in the northern hemisphere not to purchase a Tom – Tom, a GPS. After 12 miles, which takes a while, we popped out of the forested one lane route onto a busy intersection. God always graced me with the ability to ask directions. Sure enough most of the time I just needed to venture a little further and voila I was on route.

I 90 wasn’t for the faint of hearts. Get on and move fast or get off, never mind moving to the outside lane, they used that for really reeving it up, gearing into their 18^th gear and making motion into potion. Flesh tone, to white and eventually as circulation was lost shades of plum took over my hands skin color. The only rest was for gas at the interstate stations, which I must admit were set up beautifully. Every 25 miles, gas, greasy food, and greasier accommodation could be sought. Overcast ominous skies prevailed throughout my day making time move fast.

Hal was generous enough to find some accommodation, since by noon I’d past our friend’s house between Boston and Washington DC. I kept the peddle to the meddle and didn’t see much but trees, fast moving cars, licence plates from the east to the west coast and not one Canadian. My paper directions were magical as I marked by hand no less my route along with a paper map. I loved taking off onto side roads and really seeing the country. Evening was approaching so I pulled off to one of Hal’s suggested hotels.

Stopped at the gas station that had more cracked concrete and looked desolate, only one pump was working and the plexus-glass that stood between the owner and my was thicker than coke bottle glasses. A hooded black man about 6’5 leaned over the car as I opened my window his hand on the roof and said something. I asked him to repeat it twice, feeling rather uncomfortable for not comprehending what he was saying.

“Do you want to buy some beat? I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he said, “Man where do you come from? And his facial expression lurched between disgust and perplexity.

“I come from Canada, your neighbor to the north. What are you selling that stuff for anyway?

“Need the money he said as his voice softened.”

This is where I might have started my Mother Teresa speech, but he was off walking to a group of 4 guys all watching the action and I was relieved.

Upon arrival home a month later I looked up street names for crack. You ready, here they are so you know the lingo. Beat, Candy, Chemical, Cookies, Crumbs, Devil drug, Crunch and Munch, Dice, Fat bags, Electric kool-aid, French fries, Glow, Grit, Gravel, Hail, Hard ball, Ice Cube, Nuggets, Jelly beans, Paste, Hotcakes, Raw, Piece, Prime time, Rocks, Scrabble, Snow coke, Sleet, Troup and Tornado. As a linguist I must admit they did justice to adjectives. 

I got into 12 ft. gas station shop and spoke with the owner hidden behind the glass.

“Do you know where The Comfort Inn is?”

“Yes, it is right there”, as he pointed to a hotel amongst some damaged foliage just off the freeway that looked sketchy. There was only one car, and the concrete building was run down. The sign was hanging sideways and I couldn’t spot the office.

Another man, a hyper Hispanic in the shop listening to our conversation tried to lure me outside to explain how to get to another hotel. I wasn’t budging. I thanked him for his time. But he wouldn’t let up.

“I’ll show you were you can stay.” My eyes cast down to the ground yet this didn’t dissuade him. The gas attendant behind the glass was getting uncomfortable probably wishing I’d never shown up.

“Listen lady if you come outside, I’ll point to the street you can go down.”

“Thanks for your help, but I won’t come outside.” Meanwhile the gas attendant was trying to explain how to get to the downtown area to look for another hotel. Their voices were trying to outdo one another, as I glanced from one to the other, finally resting my eyes on the attendant.

“What is the matter with you?  I’ll show you another easier route.” The Hispanic man’s tone wasn’t calming down, I moved closer to the owner and so did he. I could tell he was about to grab my arm when I just skipped around him to another part of this 12ft. shop and pretended to be looking at something.

“I’ll wait for you outside lady.” My mind was now racing, what to do? How did I ever get in this situation, where is Hal, how could he have chosen such a poor hotel? The rain was coming down, my back was killing me from hours of driving and night was coming.

“Does this happen often?” I asked the owner.

“Ignore him and get in your car.”

I got in the car called Hal and tried as desperate as I was to keep my composure. I failed. I eventually hung up and went into town. That was even worse, the only hotel after a 15 min. of driving around was $200.00 plus. I got back onto the highway and got off at the next exit. All these towns flowed into one another, there wasn’t free land between Boston and Washington, just concrete. I stopped off at the Holiday Inn, right beside the air strip.

Full no rooms, and the lady looked over the counter and said, “I wouldn’t be staying at any of the hotels along this strip you are likely to be propositioned by prostitutes.

My heart sank. I got onto the highway after being led not once but twice in the wrong direction. Now it is night and I am searching for a hotel. I pull off in Newark, Delaware.

The football stadium is full and people are swarming onto the streets. I see 3 possible hotels.

“We have a smoking room, do you want it. That is your only chance for a room in this town. Its parent week-end at the University and all the hotels are booked in the State.

My head rolled back as she handed me the smoke spray to use in my room. 
"Just spray it on the rug, curtains and in the bathroom and when you come back from your dinner, all smell better."

It wasn't the smell that kept me up that night, but an amorous couple next door that decided to show their love for one another 2 feet from my head. The constant signing, banging, growing and yelps for some reason didn't bring the relief I was looking for.