Even though I had managed to sleep for most of the plane ride, exhaustion had set in. Zia Catina showed me to my room and offered me the disclaimer: “this isn’t like your bed at home”. She wasn’t kidding; it was a single so narrow it must have been designed for guys named “Slim”. Laying on it stressed its old springs to the point it resembled a hammock. My ass couldn’t have been more than a couple of inches off the ground. Despite its shortcomings, sleep came quickly, aided by the cool mountain air that wafted in through the open window.
This entry made me chuckle; the mental image it conjures is just too funny.
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