The Loneliest Number

And now here I am, safe and sound, in my scary and lonely Clarion Hotel room, which lies at the end of a very long and dark and twisted maze of corridors.

My visions of an early autumn evening spent enjoying the brightly turning foliage and cute New England College Town cafes as a Free-Spirited and Independent Young Man Who Loves to Love Life have been quickly choked by the dark, the rain, the cold, the looming emptiness of the Montana's Steakhouse in the hotel lobby, and the enormously endlessly King-sized expanse of my hotel room.

(Oh look, and there's even a creepy thunderstorm on the TV.)

I don't think I would do very well in jail. Or a monastary. Or any sort of traveling profession. Unless I was part of a duo.

(And now a commercial with people screaming about a FIRE!)

Who ever said it was any fun traveling alone?

Or do anything alone, for that matter?

Great! Now I'm scared, lonely, bored and co-dependent.