It was a little sad moving out of the Baymont. I was really digging that hotel room. Good water pressure, ample desk space, lots of outlets to plug the mobile command unit into, a gigantic bed, a couch to sit and play the Martin on and tap water that was okay to drink. Pretty good joint.

Not one for goodbyes, I split outta town real quick. I had to get over to St. Louis to fly out to Portland. Do or die.

I passed through Louisville so fast, tried to find some wireless to ring up Jaime Johnson for some lunch or something, couldn’t find a signal, got wet as hell running in and out of places, got frustrated and jumped back on the highway down towards St. Louis. Next time, for sure.

I drove a couple more hours and pulled off at a little town exit called, “Dale, Indiana.” Dale. Now there’s a good Midwestern name. I knew lots of Dales growing up. Truckfulls.

317. “Found a dry parking lot to regroup in.

I snagged a little hotel, got connected, worked some, ate at the Denny’s (the only choice in town…wait, there wasn’t a town, only a two hotels and a Denny’s) and passed out sometime after the midnight hour.