Cherry-eyed roaches

The sun arose, the color palette of this geography is unparalleled.
Old homes have screened-off porches and patios to keep night creatures away while victims of tuberculosis sleep outside, better for their lungs: this happened.
Back to an airport. A glass-fenced-off smoking room, a box of smoke, occasional glimpses of hands, cherried cigarettes through a cloud of swirling white and grays. Look out the window to the tarmac, a similar scene, blizzard. Will Caitlin land?
Walking the bitter-cold streets, Frontier Cafe, where spicy means spicy, four or five used napkins later. Hostel on route 66, the manager, an old, frizzy-haired lady, meanders and talks the speed of evolution, I watch the floor, two large cockroaches clamber out of the fireplace and march into the kitchen. Breakfast, we will have out. Our room, large, theme:sunflower, cacophonous radiator, a permanent kettle whistling and steaming.
To Gallup.
Checkpoint, Grants, NM. Sun and snow, bright-like the flash of a nuclear bomb, only 14F. A town with 3 stores, McDonalds, Sonic, and the Diner we chose. The heater was broken, truckers and small towners, knick-knacks: "Its hard to be optimistic when your "fat" pants are tight." Amazingly good coffee.
Gallup, route 66, the famous El Rancho Hotel, celebrities on their way to Hollywood would be seen here, or thats what they tell me. Our room, Lorraine Day. Car stuck in the snow, Red Rock Park. It took the two of us and four others in an oncoming car to get out of the snow, luckily they were there. New Years, walking in the cold, probably 8-10F, drudging through the snow finding a sort of downtown? Envelope with $300 was found and pocketed. Residential streets, silent, peaceful, the sweet smell of burning of pinon burrowing out of chimneys. New Years. The El Rancho bar, two other tables were occupied, one party of two Native Americans, and the other, the group that helped push our car out of the snow bank. They claim the El Rancho is typically the happening place in Gallup, where they are from, and could not gather why it was so dead. Last call was at 11pm. Champagne in Lorraine Day with the TV on, 2011.
Morning, awoke to the distant sound of a trombone. -5F, let me translate that, -22C. Now I have never experienced this, but while breathing my nose hairs froze.