Today is John's birthday. I remember buying him his first guitar when I was in high school. That was a long time ago.
John and Anthony hiked by the Mount Ashland Ski area yesterday and were very glad that they didn't have to wear snow snows to get by. I had been under the impression that they were spending the night near the freeway. But when I checked on their progress this morning, I came to the realization that they didn't. They got picked up. But because it was dark, the driver took them back into California before they realized they were going the wrong way. The tracker only shows them in Oregon. But they would've had to go all the way to Hilt, California to find a place to turn around. But no harm done.
Since it is John's birthday, they decided to celebrate by spending time in a hotel. But when they walked up to the reception desk, at 10:45 at night, with their backpacks, and their beards with leaves and twigs still stuck in them, the six-foot, six-inch 250 pound receptionist, who looked more like a football tackle, stood back from the counter, tilted his head, and said, "We don't have showers here for you boys. But if you can afford it, I have a room with a large shower on the second floor, next to the housekeeper's laundry room. I can make sure that the housekeeper brings you extra bars of bath soap."
John and Anthony looked at each other. They really hadn't noticed the twigs in their beards until then. "We'll take it!" Anthony said.
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