legs weary and trembling slightly, roughly 12 hours since i left my home in new jersey, i have arrived at the best western mariemont 8 miles outside cincinnati, ohio. the residence is situated in an old-timey village, adjacent to a suburban neighborhood which i believe is called either red bank or mariemont. the area seems to be a downtown shopping district for the burbs, only with an inn thrown into the mix amongst an indie movie theater, an ice cream parlor and some other boutique shops.
the drive was indelibly long, and vacillated between extreme highs and unnerving lows. getting out of jersey and into pennsylvania (as depicted by the blue mountain and kittatiny tunnels) presented nary a problem, as the designated route took me past my college on route 78 towards harrisburg. my first stop came in susquehanna where i visited cracker barrel to relieve myself and stretch my legs. from there i drove straight to the border of pa and west virginia. although i was only in west virginia for eleven miles, i knew better than to stop for anything at all. i think we’ve all seen enough horror movies to know that one wrong turn could lead to disaster in that state.
ohio is big. and empty… mostly.
i drove 200 miles to columbus where i strayed from the highlighted route to visit the original wendy’s hamburger joint. as i exited my vehicle to make sure everything was in order at the five-hundred mile mark, i noticed what appeared to be a nail sticking out of my rear tire. after my spicy chicken sandwich combo, i drove a few blocks until i came upon a BP where there just happened to be an AAA truck parked. i walked over and asked the driver to take a look at my car and he declined. instead he called it in to the dispatcher. a security guard from the station came over and we began talking and whispering about the AAA guy in all sorts of vulgarity laden terms concerning his laziness. the security guard, a middle-aged african american fellow with graying hair, began telling me stories about his days as a tow-truck driver and how he would make money on the sides doing small favors for folks. i asked if he wanted to help me with my dilemma and earn a quick buck. he told the truck driver that it was a simple procedure and he was obligated to look at the tire. soon the lazy guy pulled his truck up and removed a screw less than a half-inch in length (what the fuck do i know, screws come in all sorts of sizes, i just guessed it was a long one). he tossed it on the ground, sprayed some adhesive on the tire and left after telling me it wasn’t leaking at all. i picked the screw off the pavement and threw it in a storm drain, lest someone else roll over it. i thanked the security guard copiously, and went on my way. 90 minutes later i arrived here at the best western. if you want to know what it’s like driving along i-71 south, you can spend 76 seconds in the car with me listening to vetiver. i don’t remember every album i’ve listened to this point, but the highlights were: The Make-Up, Lily’s, Spacemen 3, Songs: Ohia, The Smiths, and Iron and Wine.
it’s 10:57pm and i’m scribing from my room’s high-speed internet. brooke called an hour ago about letting me into her apartment tomorrow after she gets off work. so i have to find something to do in louisville until 6pm. supposedly it’s raining there for the next five days. i called tim and stephen about setting up their interviews, jk is already scheduled for wednesday at about 5:30 or 6 at a bar near his house.
i went downstairs to the bar in the hotel and spoke for a while the bartender rob, who knew all about the suburbs of north jersey from an ex-girlfriend who lived in springfield. we chatted about my project and his life as a bartender in conservative cincinnati (the bar closed at 11, “pathetic” was how he described the place). rob was originally from new orleans, now he goes to school at xavier via syracuse, where he attended for two years. we spoke about music and watched some of the home-run derby. eventually we were joined by another hotel employee, a pretty young girl named lauren who was talking about getting drunk on vodka, and her boyfriend. rob told her my book was on the “codependent nature of women in relationships,” a slight against her that she took in stride, responding that “it’s not what the man does that counts, it’s what he doesn’t do…”
after one drink (and one on the house to take back to my room) the duo of rob and lauren closed up shop, and here i am, getting ready to sleep well.
