Tonight was interesting. A couple from Queensland, Australia, pulled in around 8:30. We had a nice conversation. They’re traveling Route 66 all the way from Chicago to Los Angeles. While I was checking them into Unit Four (the carpet glue is drying in Three, which I finished today), they filled me in on all their adventures.
They’re crazy about American food. They were particularly excited about the bison burgers at the Rock Cafe in Stroud, Okla., which was one of my favorites on my trip, too. I asked whether they’d worked up the nerve to try the 72-ounce steak challenge at the Big Texan in Amarillo. The guy said he’d thought about it, but he decided he’d rather save room for dessert at the Midpoint Cafe a few miles down the road.
They wanted to know whether there was anything fun to do in Coldwater on a Saturday night. They seemed like an adventuresome pair, so I promptly stationed Joey in the lobby with instructions to call if anyone wanted a room while I took them down the street to Casa de Jesus.
Apparently Jesus has procured himself a karaoke machine, which delighted my guests to no end. After we’d all had big bowls of menudo — a first for them — they started bugging me to get up and sing.
I’ve never sung in front of people before, even though my father always wanted me to. I thought about singing one of his songs, but I wasn’t at all sure I could get through it without crying, so I just wrote down the catalog number for “House of the Rising Sun” instead. People clapped when I got done, and for just a minute, I think I understood why Dad swapped Mom and me for a guitar and a suitcase.
Maybe that’s why he kept trying to coax me into singing with him onstage.
Maybe I’ll sing one of his songs next time.