Chapter 11: Jim Croce & My Tropical Fish

A final visit with my family before the long haul to Finisterre. 250 down. 750 miles to go.

The hotel is at the end of a long boulevard. I step into the lobby. It is clean and modern. Surfaces are trim and shiny. There is a revolving door. There are leather couches and empty espresso cups and businesspeople with their legs crossed speaking in lowered voices.

I must be a sight for the clerks at the desk, not to mention the other guests. I haven…