The Grand Adventure: Craig T. Nelson

Today, we left on our Grand Adventure. There wasn’t a ton to report today as we spent the majority of the day in the car driving to Roswell, NM. We did stop in Abilene for lunch at the Biscuit Bar just to try something new. Everything on the menu was stuffed in a biscuit. Most of it was breakfast related, but I got a Monte Cristo, which was a turkey, ham, and cheese on a biscuit dipped in French toast batter. It was…out of this world amazing! My wife and son both tried to steal it from me. The only real downside was that I should have gotten two.

We’re staying at the Roswell Inn tonight, which was a bit of a disappointment from the pictures on the website. It looks like a renovated Motel 6. It’s not so bad inside, except that it still smells like a motel from the 1950s. Oh well, it’s only for one night, and there’s a little alien on the door, so I think we can survive. Although, one of the major selling points was the free breakfast, which we found out is just “grab and go,” which we presume means some fruit and muffins laid on a coffee bar. So, we’ll most likely head somewhere else to eat. It’s not a bad motel, but we probably wouldn’t stay here again.

UPDATE: The beds in the motel are spring beds. We know this for a fact because you can hear them groan and moan very loudly every time you move or flip over. I’m not sure if they’re also from the 1950s, but they definitely need some oil. Every time my wife would flip over, I thought someone was trying to break into the room! We got the room with two queen beds, because both my wife and son like to spread eagle at night, and that means that I usually get kicked off the side. With two beds, I at least have a chance. I nicknamed the beds “Craig” and “Nelson” (the space between them looked like a “T”), and every time the springs would creak, I’d say something like, “Hang in there, Craig. It’s going to be all right.”

We ate at Whataburger for dinner, partly because we were all starving and wanted something quick to eat, but mostly because it was directly across the street from the motel. While there, we ended up meeting a nice local family who talked to us about all kinds of stuff, like what to do in New Mexico. Their family descended from Mexico, although none of them had apparently ever been there. The father was the spitting image of Santa Claus sans the red suit, and he had a story for everything. He’d jump from story to story with no real connection or thread tying them together. It was whatever popped into his head. He reminded me of my own father, except this guy’s stories were all about his family, not random people he met on the internet.