July 6, 2016:

Mister Dude-in-Chair scans intently from left to right as a very tight orange skirt wiggles through his field of vision. Very intently.

The kind and cheerful Asian hostess means it when she smiles. She's happy to be working, perhaps paying for university; she calls me "hon" and "sweetie" and is more charming than should be legal.

This morning's breakfast buffet is greasy enough to leave me vaguely unsettled. Which reminds me to take my nausea-inducing crazy pill.

Here we are in the American South.