Even leaving on a 7 A.M. flight, which meant I missed wishing Chela good-bye before she got up for school, I didn’t land in Tallahassee until after five. My second plane, from Atlanta to Tallahassee, was a little twenty-passenger jet parked out on the tarmac by its lonesome. We had to walk out. It was colder outside than I expected. Forty degrees, maybe cooler. I wished I had brought a heavier jacket. Tallahassee isn’t Miami Beach. Tallahassee’s tiny airport felt as if it was out in the wilderness, with a simple wooded road toward town. I was overjoyed when the first Applebee’s came into sight. April was right about me: I’m a city boy. I grew up in L.A., and I’ve traveled the world, so L.A. is small enough for me. There was no satellite radio in the rental, so I had to listen to the local fare. The sharp, noticeable accents from radio station callers reminded me that I was in the South. Deep South. I bypassed the country stations and rested on soul. To me, Aretha blended best with the thin-trunked pines and ancient oak trees draped in moss.
What do You think about In The Night Of The Heat (2008)?
