Twilight Zone

We have entered a parallel world, we have left the world of Dumas and are now in the world of Ken Kesey – “One flew over the cuckoo’s nest.”
We show up at the Sports bar at 3:30, and are told (via translator on our cell phone) that the room is not ready. Monique is wearing a chef jacket and preparing the nights menu. No problem, it is the end of the days hike we’ll have a beer.
The chef/owner is Monique. Then Monique says we can take our packs upstairs, and she wants to take Monica’s, but is shocked at how heavy it is. Sometime later we go to our room, but it is still being cleaned – by Monique. We finally get our room, shower, wash our socks and underwear, and go back downstairs (the bar) to wait for dinner. We ask the bartender (Monique) for a glass of Rose. During this time several locals stop in for a drink and gossip with the bartender – Monique. Dinner time arrives and the bartender, you guessed who, asked if we would like anything else. I say no we will go in for dinner. We go into the dining room, take a table and the waitress – Monique, brings us water and wine. The waitress, you are right again, serves the salad, which is a leaf of lettuce, an 1/8 of a small tomato, and a two inch sq. of Spanish tortilla. The chef – Monique, then comes out and asks Monica if she eats chicken. Shortly, after hearing a chorus of microwave oven alert bells ringing, we are served limp canned green beans, naked macaroni, and a small piece of chicken. I saw her put the chicken in the microwave otherwise you couldn’t prove it wasn’t prepared by a taxidermist. More microwave bells rang and dessert was served, a Sysco custard pie. During our dining experience several other patrons, thinking this was an actual restaurant and not a setting for a TV sitcom, came in and ordered. The dinner music was the carillon of bells from the several microwave oven alarms. When the bells rang the meek unassuming bartender Monique, would rush into the kitchen, don an apron and become Chef Monique. Bells were ringing, Monique was running about playing at least three personas, it was a Michelin star time moment, while all the patrons were totally mystified. Operator, trace the call and tell me where I am. We left the dining room were going through the bar to our room, when the bartender – Monique asked what time we would like breakfast? We told her and then as we were going up the stairs to our room a side door opened and Monique wished us a good night.
The bed in our tiny room has a mattress that has after many years realized its dream to be a hammock. The paper thin walls may give birth to the next Great American novel.
Come Toto we must sleep.

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