Some days you drive across the flatness between two lots of mountains and when you approach the range on the other side the sky is piled with clouds that have crashed up against it and formed lenticular clouds (see below) that explain the numerous sightings of 'ufo's' on this extraterrestrial highway. And you stop in petrol station/shop/cafes in towns, with populations in the two figures, where the local constabulary and sundry are gathered around the only table and everyone stops talking and looks your way when you walk in. There is an Australian women serving there? In her fifties at a guess: she tells us she ended up here on her spiritual quest. She wears a name badge with 'Shell I Am' on it and takes it in her stride when, on returning the 'why are you here?' question, we tell her 'to look for spaceships'. 'Yes, the best spot is under the mountain over there. We meditate and it brings them to us. I've seen them, big as football fields.' Some days you pick the motel in Alamosa that has the best internet coverage all holiday, and walk out in the freezing, full mooned night to have Italian dinner as the only diners in a place the other side of the Rio Grande when it is still a little river underserving of it's name. Some days are extraordinarily ordinary.
Who wore it better?
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