And still those voices are calling from far away, wake you up in the middle of the night …
I awoke at 4:30 am, and there were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say “Welcome to the Hotel California.” Such a lovely place, with plenty of room any time of year.
Here I am in San Francisco, with random lines from my favorite Eagles song running through my head, as I struggle to understand a place where ordinary houses go for a cool million dollars even in a deep recession and people often seem trapped by lives of ostentatious excess (Her mind is tiffany-twisted, she got the mercedes bends …). At least my room doesn’t have mirrors on the ceiling or pink champagne on ice … But the beautiful city is looking tired these days, as if all the partying has caught up with her. I guess it’s time for a California-style facelift to go with the great tan, but hey, the money is running out fast.
In my nightmare, I tried to check out, but the night manager said “You can check out any time you like but you can never leave.” Last thing I remember I was running for the door. I had to find the passage back to the place I was before.
Thank you, Eagles, for all those great lyrics from the late 1970s and the indelible images they left. Images of excess in California that are even more relevant today, in the Great Recession, when the great state of California has a heavy hangover from decades of excess, when the people wanted everything, but only wanted to pay on credit. The bill has come due in this place that could be heaven or hell. Such a lovely place, such a lovely face …
My dream wouldn’t let go, so I got up and took a picture toward the door, then drifted back to sleep as my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim.
Thank you Don Henley, Glenn Frey, and Don Felder for those wonderful words and tune (lyrics incorporated into my story above are in italics).
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