We evaded alien abduction in Truth or Consequences and set off for Tucumcari, a town that we discovered boasts many boastful hotels along Route 66. Some of these hotels xenophobically brag, through signage, “American owned and operated.” Since that made us uncomfortable, we stayed at the well-curried Super 8, whose lobby was replete with Buddha statues, a black desk clerk, and this fun fact strapped to the wall.
We cruised up Route 66, looking for somewhere to grab a bite, and were simultaneously horrified and tickled by racial Americana from an era during which the language of advertising was stereotypography.
WWPOD? What Would Peter O’Toole Do?
My favorite thing about Mauricio, The Taco Kid, is that though he has been given an opportunity to speak, he’d rather not. Perhaps Taco Kids should be seen and not heard.
TJ and I ate our supper at the Rockin’ Y. Her massive chicken fried steak caused her to ruminate Rodinishly.
Then she entered a coma.
I took advantage of her fugue state to indulge in my Winonaphilia: Black Swan was making its world premiere on AMC! As I watched anorexic brunette actresses reinforce gender stereotypes onscreen, I longed to become the BLACK SWAN OF TUCUMCARI. Thankfully, I had what I needed to accomplish this. Back in Tucson, Amrit and TJ had pressured me into buying a leotard. I fetched it from the car, prayed to the goddess that the unwashed crotch would not infect my whisker biscuit with HPV, and DANCED.
I danced to the ice machine as the BLACK SWAN, heard maids muttering in Spanish about “ese cisne negro en el leotardo morado” and knew that we had made the right choice in saying no güey Jose to those Amerkin motels.