It was midnight when we came across the F1. A small motel with a novel solution to night clerking. We put our money into the vending machine and watched as the keys fell out with a clunk that must have woken at least the people in the room directly behind it. With nobody to ask, we snuck about, searching for the room, strangely enjoying the slightly ominous feeling that permeated the whole place. When you know there's nobody around, the night takes on a film noir feeling - we both became sleuths, in my mind, tracking down someone who wanted to stay lost. Except that we were the ones who were lost. And nobody was looking for us.

When we found our room, its compact layout surprised me at first. Only years later, would I come to consider it spacious, after searching for apartments in London and seeing the holes-in-the-wall apartments that even fairly well-off people call home. I took the bed upstairs, as Simon had already passed out on the one downstairs. Mind you, upstairs might be promoting it unduly, with a more appropriate term being 'the bed by the ceiling'. Somehow, it didn't bother me, and I appreciated a real bed, no matter how many people- never mind.

I was woken in the night for the second time, and it took me a few seconds to realize the earthquake was neither real nor imagined, but something in between - or rather, someone in between; A snoring neighbor with lungs like echo chambers shook the walls with every breath, amusing me out of my drowsiness and forcing me to make a choice between getting up at 4am and trying to occupy myself until daybreak, or flumping back down on the pillow and trying to keep my mind from filling up with things to think about that would inevitably force the former, in any case.

Unusually, I fell right back to sleep and woke up refreshed at what my parents would call 'a decent hour'. Never to be outdone, Simon was already getting up when I opened my eyes and began trying to figure out where I was. I slid off my bed, almost directly down the ladder and fell into the kitchenette, which was more like a small kettle that happened to be near an even smaller sink. After doing the math, I figured out how to get the kettle under the tap without losing all the water on the retrieval - no small feat for a sink barely bigger than a grapefruit. The two thimbles made the kettle seem generous, and we technically had five cups of tea each by the time the maid came knocking.

Teeth clean, clothes acceptable, hair... well, we had hats. We grabbed our tooth brushes and checked our kidneys before handing the key over and spending an embarrassingly long time trying to remember how to casually say thanks on the way out. As we got down to the car, we were delighted to see it present and intact, and we proceeded to check it for signs of tampering before touching it. As it turned out, the place wasn't all that bad, considering it cost only a fraction more than a liter of water at the theme park that didn't have a theme.

As another glorious day began to make promises, we looked out on the distinctly low buildings that lined the wide highway and felt like we'd been somewhere new.

My old friend, Simon, having just fired off a witty comment, as usual.

Somewhere along the walkway.