on the border still . . .

. . . still waiting for a package of tires and bike parts that i won't be able to get easily outside the US (hell, not easy to get here) . . . but something is wrong because they should be here. I left the safari outfits, oversize binoculars, and monster telephoto lenses of Bentsen Rio State Park behind. The pigs were having fun f'ing around but i was getting pretty damn bored and at 23 bucks a day the camping was a ripoff considering the facilities. There was hot water but no pressure which forced you to crouch down and hug the tile wall in an unheated bathroom when night time temps were in the 20's. I had a rippin' fire every night and ate huge hunks of roast meat but then coyotes started visiting every night, and wild dogs in your campsite are never good. The pigs were pretty cute especially with piglet in tow but they are really blind which makes it sort of difficult to chase them off. They would wander by ten feet away and when i stood to wave them off they seemed confused - often walking towards me like i was a giant bird feed dispenser. Initially, having the park to myself every night was pretty cool, just me and the homeland security helicopter every hour, then i had to leave before someone asked me to pay for the other 3 days i'd been there.



Now, i am in a hotel by the post office so i can take care of business and get some writing done. I am surrounded by tens of thousands of winter texans living in rv's adjacent to golf courses. I find it telling that you see more "adult day care" than child care. My first shit hole hotel, after the state park, was next to the Excalibur Bar and Grill. The Excalibur is a square windowless box of a building with a back parking lot that makes you think, "hmmm, strip club," but it was not. I noticed a lot of trucks parked in the lot and decided to check it out. The place was packed to the gills with winter texans sitting at long tables, eating tex mex, drinking cheap beer (and cheaper wine), and dancing to Johnny Cash covers. I was the youngest guy by more than a decade. However, i ran into Garth, a young canadian soul and "fellow adventurer," of earlier acquaintance. Garth regaled me with stories over beers and food, until, he caught the eye of a silver haired vixen that whisked him away to the dance floor.