Goodbye Howard Johnson

We are banned from the Howard Johnson, rightly so, for the hundredth time. Instead of climbing the log pile (bad bad) they’ve gone swimming in the sawdust pile and left a Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb trail of sawdust all through the hotel, leading the very angry receptionist right to the room containing the culprits.

The dance floor at the Companion on a Hearst Saturday night is lit, there’s a bachelorette party we are crashing, a swarm of big pupilled treeplanters taking over. My favorite Hearst activity; buying cigarettes at the Esso at 3 a.m

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