Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. We had several single dads and their sons staying with us this weekend, just chilling out and playing pool with each other. One boy old enough to know better wasn’t even aware it was Father’s Day. I told him to remember to acknowledge the day with his dad, but by morning he had already forgotten. It makes me wonder if the ex-wives are not doing their jobs in raising them to be respectful. Then they come here and steal our cue sticks.
I actually did something away from the hotel and writing yesterday, which was why I didn’t post. I got home too late, fancy that! And, then after I checked in with Confidante at the desk, I met two interesting guests, one from New York City and the other a white, female missionary from the Sudan. She wondered if I owned the hotel. Go figure. It goes to show you how being out of civilization for so long can warp your perception. The woman from Sudan had fallen several months ago injuring her hip. Apparently, some nasty Sudanese parasites took up residence in her bones and since we don’t have tropical diseases here, she needs to go back to the Sudan where a doctor who’s familiar with treating such things is waiting to help her. It’s painful to watch her inch her way along as she walks. The pain in her hip and leg is excruciating and she must use the wall and a primitive-looking, wooden walking stick to support herself. Her organization is reluctant to fund her trip back because they don’t think she’ll make it physically. She’s might not make it here physically either, if she doesn’t get some immediate medical help. I had to admire her indomitable spirit, always making light of her circumstances. If I had the money, I’d send her home myself.
The other guest had been invited to attend a family celebration at one of our local restaurants. After a 12 hour, long and tiring bus trip from New York to Richmond, they not only had not reserved a room for him in the same hotel with the family, but gave him terrible directions to the place where they were to meet up. Unable to find acommodations elsewhere, he wound up at our hotel because, I guess, he was meant to. He got lost trying to find the restaurant and missed the event. Without a car to get around, he soon found out Richmond is not New York City, if you can believe it. We don’t have mass transit or even buses running outside of the city. His Father’s Day weekend wasn't a total wild goose chase. He got to meet us.
I didn’t have to get too excited over the expected cultural clash between the older religious group that was here for the weekend, and what can be our loud bar on a Friday or Saturday night. They drove everyone away so we never had to worry about it. Since they didn’t drink, the bar could have stayed closed, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
I heard a rumor that someone was here to give an estimate on getting our
embarrassing pool table re-felted. Shhhh. We don’t want to jinx it.
I actually did something away from the hotel and writing yesterday, which was why I didn’t post. I got home too late, fancy that! And, then after I checked in with Confidante at the desk, I met two interesting guests, one from New York City and the other a white, female missionary from the Sudan. She wondered if I owned the hotel. Go figure. It goes to show you how being out of civilization for so long can warp your perception. The woman from Sudan had fallen several months ago injuring her hip. Apparently, some nasty Sudanese parasites took up residence in her bones and since we don’t have tropical diseases here, she needs to go back to the Sudan where a doctor who’s familiar with treating such things is waiting to help her. It’s painful to watch her inch her way along as she walks. The pain in her hip and leg is excruciating and she must use the wall and a primitive-looking, wooden walking stick to support herself. Her organization is reluctant to fund her trip back because they don’t think she’ll make it physically. She’s might not make it here physically either, if she doesn’t get some immediate medical help. I had to admire her indomitable spirit, always making light of her circumstances. If I had the money, I’d send her home myself.
The other guest had been invited to attend a family celebration at one of our local restaurants. After a 12 hour, long and tiring bus trip from New York to Richmond, they not only had not reserved a room for him in the same hotel with the family, but gave him terrible directions to the place where they were to meet up. Unable to find acommodations elsewhere, he wound up at our hotel because, I guess, he was meant to. He got lost trying to find the restaurant and missed the event. Without a car to get around, he soon found out Richmond is not New York City, if you can believe it. We don’t have mass transit or even buses running outside of the city. His Father’s Day weekend wasn't a total wild goose chase. He got to meet us.
I didn’t have to get too excited over the expected cultural clash between the older religious group that was here for the weekend, and what can be our loud bar on a Friday or Saturday night. They drove everyone away so we never had to worry about it. Since they didn’t drink, the bar could have stayed closed, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
I heard a rumor that someone was here to give an estimate on getting our
embarrassing pool table re-felted. Shhhh. We don’t want to jinx it.