Road Trip Highlights: Civilized Interlude

We rolled into Ashland on a scorching afternoon, still smelling of campfire woodsmoke and hot springs sulfur (having stopped at Jackson Wellsprings on the way into town). After the emergency administration of ice cream to all members of the party, we checked into the Columbia Hotel, a charming historic inn right on Ashland’s main drag. With its high ceilings, slow-moving fans, brass beds, parlor full of overstuffed chairs, wooden phone booth, and shared baths, it felt a lot like living in an Agatha Christie novel.

(While we were taking this picture of Simon attempting to call the Streets on the payphone, one of the other guests came out and began to wail about how old we were making her feel -- had we honestly never seen a telephone booth before? Alarmed, we assured her we had.)

We decided to see a play -- when in Ashland, you know. "Don Quixote" had it all: bawdy humor, giant puppets, sword fights, and enough fart jokes and philosophical questions to fill hours of driving the next day. Does the world still need knights? What happens if we all give up on Romance? Is it heroic or stupid to tilt at windmills? Is it better for Dulcinea to remain a dreamy fantasy? And of course, the real stumper: Is he crazy, or not?

When we got back to the Columbia Hotel at about 11 pm, our room had cooled off some, but it was still pretty steamy. Opening the windows let in some breeze, along with the soothing sounds of Ashland's low-key night life from the sidewalk below. Andrew and Simon stripped off most of their clothes and lay down on the beds, looking drowsy. Josie and I decided to go down the hall to take cool showers before turning in -- before we left Simon insisted that we develop a secret knock, so that when we came back he'd know it was us and let us into the room. As an added precaution, I unlocked the door on the way out. Which turned out to be a good thing, because by the time we got back, and Josie reminded me about the secret knock, Simon was sound asleep, spreadeagled on the bed in his underwear, and all the knocking in the world couldn't have woken him up.