Denise and Dan run the Wimberly Inn. We checked in, and as we proceeded to our rooms, Denise said we could keep the bikes outside our doors. The place was spotless, and she did not want them inside. We got to the room, and decided to take them inside anyway. Rebels.
I immediately took a shower and discovered that the shower head spewed nothing but a thin misty spray. I finished, called the front desk and told Denise the deal. She said she'd send Dan, her husband, to the room to investigate. The water is hard in the area, and the shower head gets clogged with deposits. Although I offered, she did not want me touching the shower, telling me only Dan could take care of it.
Once I hung up, Chris and I agreed calling was a mistake, since he'd see the bikes and probably take issue with them in the room. A few minutes later, a knock on the door. There was Dan, baggy shorts, long hair with receding hairline, and a t-shirt stuck with sweat over his shoulders, down to his mid back. He saw the bikes and told us that Denise preferred them outside, that we'd better not even think of using any of the towels to clean our bikes, as several other lawless cyclists had done in the past, and that he'd just painted the room so there better not be any residue or grease on the walls when we left.
don't tell Dan we ate in the room
He removed the shower head, rinsed it., tested it, and showed us how to take it off. He gave official permission to fix the issue if the issue arose again, left to finish mowing the lawn right outside our door. Later after dinner, we roamed around the grounds of the inn. It was once a bed and breakfast, opened by a Belgian couple. They knew what they were doing when planning the landscaping. We saw a trail leading down to a small creek and just as we stepped onto the trail, Dan, watching us from the yard, simply said, "snakes." We froze. I think he enjoyed the effect this powerful word had on us city slickers.
He told us snakes had been seen up by the rooms a few days ago, and to just be careful. We explored a bit further on the trail and decided a creek was maybe not as interesting as we thought. We then got talking to Dan, and realized he shared a lot of our views. Coming from California to West Texas, he kept his progressive outlook and even shared some stories of working in Social Services, convincing displaced and under-educated workers to buck up and get back in school. In a matter of 10 minutes we were liking this guy and wish we had more time to drink beer and talk politics with him.
Later that night the rain came and came, creating little rivers in the ground outside our rooms. We opened the door, stood on the walkway, mouths open. Just then Dan walked by, muttering to nobody in particular, "there goes another Texas turd floater."
over and out
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