911

We made it to the sea-side city of Long Beach with only a short detour through Watts this morning.

The room we found to stay in tonight is only about twice as expensive as the one we stayed in yesterday. That's okay, though. We were happy to get off the marvelously intricate system of highways in this part of the country. Those roads and the lack of mountains to help keep me going in the right direction magnified the feeling that we both experienced: We're not at home anymore.

When we first drove through town, we were unable to spot the regular signs for accommodation. Our return trip helped us to see more. We stopped at a hotel and I asked if they had rooms available. They did, so we checked in. I was only slightly surprised when they informed us of our assigned room: 911.

That's right. I'm writing this post in room 911.

The last time my wife and I traveled out the country was in September, 2001. We were in Greece, on the island of Rhodes, when we saw the World Trade Center towers struck and fall.

The feelings of ill-ease we felt at that time, were fulfilled.

I've felt similar feelings this past week.

Those feelings have been masked by my birth certificate stresses.

Still, we're staying in an odd room.