The Man from Independence

There was movement at the restaurant,
For the word had spread around,
That girls from overseas were in town.

The restaurant was in a town called Independence, a slice of southern California quirkiness offering a haven on the west side of Death Valley. That the restaurant was called Hooligans was just a bargain. But whatever the reason, L and I were clearly the biggest show in town, not withstanding the local "talent" occupying the stage with his synthesizer, a laptop, and a microphone. He was interested enough in us to ask from stage for details about us, where we were heading, where we had been. The waitresses came to visit us at regular intervals, even the owner/chef came out, missing front teeth and all, to see how we were going.

It's a strange feeling to find yourself a novelty piece. It was kind of flattering when we were walking from our motel to the restaurant/bar, to have guys literally hanging out of car windows checking us out (that doesn't happen too often these days. In fact, it never happened that often, even back in the day). But by the time the waitress had asked us for the fifteenth time if we were OK, it was getting a little old. Because this isn't a town without the occasional visitor. There's about 3 hotels, enough to accommodate the entire town, I think. There are hiking trails, fishing and hunting all nearby. It's between several major tourist attractions. I can't see any reason for there not being visitors to what seems quite a pretty town, if slightly quirky. My only guess is that we're 2 "girls" travelling alone, and that we're foreign. Either way, as interesting and flattering as it was to have so much attention, I think I'll be looking forward to getting back to being one of the tourist masses tomorrow in Yosemite. I'll just have to keep an eye out for Sam is all.