The lobby of the Crystal Palace Motel in Brownfield, Texas was gleaming. White with antique chandeliers, gold painted accents, and mirrors lining every wall. The place had the feel of a pop up carnival maze, reflections everywhere, to confuse or mislead. The $65 dollar a night price tag seemed reasonable, especially considering our mid evening prospects for lodging were dimming, as it will in far far west Texas after the sun sets. My daughter was game, just the kind of place we had envisioned, off the main road, old and tidy. The nearby Holiday Inn Express was never even discussed. That would've amounted to complete failure, especially on our first night. We were of one mind.
Earlier, as we concieved, we left the great suburbs of Collin County with adventure in our eyes, important destinations to arrive at, and a spirit of wander. To Las Vegas and back via the Grand Canyon and beyond Hoover Dam. The sprawl gradually lost its grasp on our minds the further west we drove. The worries diminished, the daily routines disregarded. This was familiar country and I showed her familiar places, Dickens Springs, The Green Frog Diner, my 9 month tweener age home in Lubbock. And roadkill. Lots of roadkill.
The room was pleasant, had an early 1970s look with a flat screen. Hot shower, two big beds, at least 5 lamps, a small crystal chandelier over a small table, and it was very quiet. Off the main road quiet. Finally, some down time to reflect on the day, what we saw, what we talked about. The absurdity of modern country music lyrics and topical standards, hard lessons about relationships learned early in life, our relative good fortune, things left done, and things left undone. Thankfulness. Already we altered the loose plan, skipped the Texas canyons in favor of the Lubbock Loop and a more southern route to Santa Fe, our next destination. This will take us through Roswell, NM, near the flying saucer crash of 1947, into the great wide open, rebels without a clue.
The old Indian couple that ran the motel were very accommodating and made a fresh pot of coffee for me in the morning. Passed on the Captain Crunch. The couch in the lobby was majestic, comfortable, and seemed completely out of place. Sat for awhile, letting my daughter slumber back in the room, listening to sounds of morning motel work. The man was evidently dealing with with some sort of discomfort and made a "hmmpff" noise every 15 seconds as he did paperwork at the front desk. Perhaps his back was whacked, maybe acid reflux, after 10 minutes it was very annoying. I finally left that couch, made up two coffees to go, and thanked them for their hospitality.
Outside it was cold. A beanie morning, oil field workers and other people in trucks took off early. We took our time, we plotted, we were the aliens.