I would give anything — really, anything — to be back at home. sitting in the little room, reading my magazines, listening to my music, having my own life because this “vacation” is just the biggest joke ever. The only halfway decent thing that’s happened since we left is that my dad can’t find a country music station on the radio that has a proper signal and now we’re listening to the only radio that’s coming in clearly and they’re playing The Pretenders and I can live with that. He won’t let me put in any of my tapes.
We’re driving — just driving and driving, down through Montana in this insufferable heat. We’re going to Wyoming, to Yellowstone. To do what exactly I don’t have a clue. I mean, how many times can we watch that geyser go off? From what I can tell from the guidebook my parents used to find the hotels we’re staying at there is absolutely NOTHING TO DO until we turn around and head back through Washington State. At least there is some okay shopping there.
I look at my watch and realize only 10 minutes have passed since the last time I looked. I take it off. It has no use. Time is basically standing still or in slow motion at best. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. It’s uncomfortable, but the heat is making me too tired to care. If I sleep maybe I can dream of the little room.
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Image: Chrissie Hynde photographed by Max Vadukul for Vogue, November 1986.
Welcome to the Little Room is a series of 250-word re-imagined vignettes from my ’80s youth with a focus on music and style. It appears weekly on periodicult.com.
