Not only was I the only one staying in the Savannah Pension, but I started to realize that for forty dollars (or even ten more) I could have been staying in a place where the beds had sheets and the the owner didn't make it seem as if I was inconveniencing him by staying there. There was also the thing where he wouldn't refund me the money for Saturday night. Out of the forty I paid to stay in the "hostel," he gave me ten dollars back for "lunch." (Lunch would actually run me 11.80.) After the presentation I took off for familiar ground at the NotSo Hostel in Charleston, South Carolina.
The next day I drove for Virginia Beach. The picture I saw of Angie's Sea Side Hostel made it look as if it was set against the ocean in a sea of other small cottages. I expected something like a respite, a place that would help one find center and restore the creative juices. Little did I know that Virginia Beach is the self-proclaimed "largest resort-city in the world," and Angie's place was smack dab in the middle of it.
Sitting on a bench along the sea-sidewalk, I watched what seemed like hundreds of people walk by. I don't think I've ever been to a place so ripe for people watching, not even New York. In a few weeks I can see this place being flooded with kids indulging in the MTV spring break experience.
At the moment I am residing in Crystal City, Arlington, and after watching the season premier of Breaking Bad last night, all I can wonder about is if this city's name represents its drug of choice.
