what defines a scentic highway-- part 2

so, i rented a car. i always rent a car.  and i drove.  the previous year had been a nightmare.  somehow, i thought it had to be that trip then.  before the sky fell somehow.  i don't even remember, but between the herbs that made me have to pee and the herbs that made me nauseated there were many many stops.  it took me three days to reach the east coast.  the drive east, which i had never like all that much, had become oppressive.  the only thing that made me do it was a burning need to see him.  somehow he seemed to need me right then, and even though i hadn't wanted to and couldn't afford it i had driven--  east.  all that swam to the surface as i headed out again.  only the 10, i though, only the 10.  i love the western 10,  maybe this would be ok.  almost enthusiastic.  didn't quite make it in one day.  my mapping was a little iffy.  i decided to turn in early the first day and start fresh in the light--  which turned out to be an inspired decision because i would have been super lost in the dark.

something about a turn off being wrong.

i got there, early the next day.  since i was too early to check into the hotel i decided to check out this scenic highway.  now, what you might not know about me, or maybe you do, is how much i love overwhelming nature.

on my list of things i want from the place i want to live.  the thing that tops the list is overwhelming nature.  overwhelming nature!  to be aware of nature as the primary focus of my consciousness of the place.  so, i mean, scenic highway is like right in my wheelhouse.  so i thought, yes, early arrival means beautiful scenic drive.  i mean, not like driving the 1 and pulling off at the seal colony, but, you know, still, somethin.  so i drove.  until the bridge was washed out and i had to turn around.  there was nothing.  nothing but hideous development.  

maybe it was all on the other side of the bridge.  maybe.

it was still a little early, but i headed to my motel in destin.  maybe i called it an hotel before, if so, i misspoke.  motel all the way.  when i saw the seventies-esque font on the sign my insides did a happy dance. when i walked into the "lobby" to check in only to find it completely covered in rough wood shrouded in nets and those glass ball floats--  every inch covered in ocean junk and most of the floor covered by fish tanks--  i decided that i had at least done that right.  the woman at the counter took my card and i told her to go ahead and charge it though.  she smiled and in her thick russian accent told me that next time, if i called directly, instead of booking online, she'd give me a better rate.