Ruidoso, NM

Well, it happens to the best and bravest of us, getting spooked that is. I had found a nice little Forest Service road meandering for several miles before topping out among pines and scrub brush. I pulled off into some trees and washed down some cold chicken with chocolate milk. I got nestled into my bunk with a mediocre book and as I read, half-remembered stories began festering in my brain.

The stories involved isolated campers in southern New Mexico and illegal immigrants. Desperate people in desperate situations, all that sort of dramatic stuff. Every little creak and snick became a band of evil sweaty men with daggers clutched between their teeth. Once the thoughts began I made it about 10 minutes before crawling up to my captains chair and easing on down the road.

So here I sit, in a darkened corner of the Ruidoso Best Western parking lot, typing away and hoping to pass the night here without being rousted by motel staff or killed by hispanic pirates.