Thursday 24th December 2009 - Finding a Cheaper Motel, the Hard Way

          I'm worried that where I'm staying is much too expensive.  I make up one of my highly complex 'wandering about' plans, and set out for a tour round the town.  Then I realise it's Christmas Eve, and I ought to get to the tourist office in case they shut early.  In fact, they didn't open.  But just opposite, on the courthouse square, is the Civil War Memorial

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Notice it says "CSA".

          The place is so quiet, I reckon it's just possible that nowhere will be open tomorrow, so I decide I'd better get in something to eat, just in case.  The shopping mall parking lot and service roads are quite busy.  Trying to sneak through, I manage to get myself hit quite hard.  It's a woman about my age, and, although she's quite shaken, she isn't hurt.  Since there are lots of signs on the highways saying move out of the traffic lanes if no-one is hurt, I suggest we move out of the intersection.  She calls the police.  The fire department, the police, and an ambulance arrive, in that order.  Three police cars arrive, so I guess it was a quiet day.  We both have to sign to say we declined to be taken to hospital.

          The police take all the details, so I don't bother. 

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(notice what's written on the police car)

The officer is a bit miffed to find it's a UK licence: "Ain't done one of them before", he says.  I get into a conversation about where I'm staying, and tell him that it's too expensive.  He tells me where there is somewhere much cheaper.

          It's now about 1.30pm on Christmas Eve, and I realise that I might be cut off without transport for quite a long time.  I call my insurance company, and by 3pm I'm in a smart new 2010 Chevrolet Impala.  Pesident Obama has been exhorting everyone for some time to get a new American car.  I'm finally able to oblige.

          Poor old Rozzie is carted off by the wrecker, who kindly takes me by the motel and helps me unload.  After 8 months of 'nesting', it's not an easy task.  The rental company comes and picks me up, and in no time I've sorted out the new motel for Saturday, and got back to the mall for the shopping.  Now that I've calmed down, I have a look around and see the signs are really a bit misleading.  I take some photos for the insurance company.  It is only by way of mitigation.  It certainly wasn't the other driver's fault, so I guess they'll put it down to me.  But it makes me feel a bit better.

 

          Later that night, everywhere being closed, I settle down to watch some TV.  American TV seems to consist of 50-50 program and adverts, which I find irritating.  There is a channel, Turner Classic Movies, on cable, which shows old, mostly black and white, movies of the 'operatic' era.  They are showing "Meet me in St Louis", which is in colour, later.  The big attraction of TCM is that there are no adverts. 

          When I first turn it on, I catch the tail-end of a film called "Christmas in July".  It has an exquisite surreal joke, up there with the Garrison Keillor one about the penguins:  She says "Is it good or bad luck if a black cat crosses your path?"  And he says "It depends what happens next".