I won't name names here, but *some* motel in *some* small town in Saskatchewan gave away my room reservation the other night. I had had trouble booking a room in the first place, but by the time I got into town at 8pm and discovered my predicament the entire place was a hospitality dead zone - as was every town within a 2-hour radius. As more than one front desk clerk helpfully pointed out, "We're an oil town, ma'am. It's very busy here." Yes, thank you. That's why I made - and lost - a reservation in the first place. Given the constituency of the average oil town motel, I don't doubt I could have found myself some "shared accommodations" quite readily, but I'm not really in the market for that sort of shenanigans these days - particularly not with oil town motel constituents.
I had work to do so I couldn't afford to keep wasting time looking for a room. I gave the back seat of my truck a serious appraisal, then drove to Wally World to buy a pillow (yay $3 bargain bin!).
I fired off the proposal I was working on at 10:30 from the lobby of the local McD's (yay free WiFi!) and set out to find a suitable camping spot. Dark, quiet, cozy - you know, all the things one could want for a back seat adventure. And in fact, I had just settled in to my selected location when another species of back seat adventurers arrived and parked a short distance away. Then another. And then a couple of what appeared to be purveyors of illicit goods, just for good measure.
Oh. Right. Dark, quiet, cozy. I've really lost my edge the past twenty years or so - this hadn't even occurred to me. I felt almost embarrassingly straight, just standing there brushing my teeth and applying witch hazel toner with an organic cotton ball, beside my truck full of botanical guides and granola bars, while these people carried on with their shady weeknight activities. (Seriously people! On a Monday?!)
I relocated to a well-lit, bustling location and settled in for an uncomfortable night of little sleep.
I don't believe in bucket lists - I don't need another to-do list interfering with my life - but when something sortof rad and random happens to pop up, I jot it down on the post-hoc list I've got going. I call it the Tuckeb List, 'cause Anti-Bucket List and Fuck-it Bucket were already taken.
Spend the night in a parking lot? Check.