Leaving San Diego V

This was Sunday. Church went as usual. I parked in a far corner of the church parking lot since we still looked like the (religious) Beverly Hillbillies on vacation. Afterwards, we ate lunch at Souplantation, a favorite spot. I had the chicken caesar salad; tomato, potato and spinach soup; red jello; cinnamon roll; diet Coke and coffee with creamer. I felt like a camel at a desert oasis, not knowing when I would eat or drink again. Our next stop was at Mission Valley Resort Hotel. I had to return to the front desk to have our plastic keys reset, since the first scan did not take. The young man behind the counter with the pink shirt and blue tie was busy securing tee-off times for an elderly Italian couple with marginal English skills. She looked slightly out of place (and style) with her yellow polo shirt and white bell-bottom jeans. The backs of her arms were flabby, with surgical scars from where excess skin had been removed? He looked normal...big gut, green and yellow Hawaiian shirt and off-while Docker shorts. I felt like I was visiting from another state or country. This no longer felt like home. We ate our dinner of cold Van Camp's pork and beans with cold hot dogs. Our room did not have a microwave and we were too tired to go out. The styrofoam cooler was under the desk, the coffee maker on the back of the toilet and my bike next to the bed. This would do.