I am alone in my hotel room, on a business trip, staying at a
Holiday Inn in Houston.
I am eating pretzels left over from the bag I brought on my
flight. They were a snack I bought for the
four hour flight from NJ to Houston. Airlines no longer serve meals on domestic
flights.
I am washing them down with the cheapest merlot money can
buy. It’s out of a juice box and poured
into a plastic cup. I suppose it would
be worse if I were drinking it directly from the cardboard carton, but I figure
that’s just a matter of degrees.
Is this a new low?
I’m not sure.
The wine was $3.99, and the pretzels cost almost the same. Airports can charge pretty much anything
these days. We buy it because we are
forced to be there.
It’s the middle of January and the thermostat in this room
reads 77. The environmental controls for
this room either seem to want it to be freezing or uncomfortably warm. I keep switching it back and forth because it
won’t stay at any one temperature. I
figure if I switch it back and forth enough times it will rain in the middle of
the room.
I’m not 100% sure why I am writing this stream of
consciousness. It’s not my usual
style and pretty meaningless. I think I just liked the title, “Wine
and Pretzels.”
