Roswell, NM: North Main Street
I remember “Dragging Main,” I think. What I remember, more than anything else, something at the Tastee-Freeze. It’s long gone. I think it was still a remanent shell, last time I passed this way. That way.
I remember a sleepy town on the plains of West Texas, the semi’s roll by, in the night, like stainless steel stallions, and that’s it.
Yellow bricks, hot sun. Parade ground and rodeo yard, which, I might add, is now a “leadership training center,” and I was part of the last all-male class there.
Okay, the funniest part was Wal-Mart. I’m somewhat of idiot-savant, having unintentionally sampled the retail giant’s works cross-country.
What was quick trip for cheap camera batteries and a T-Shirt turned into a sideways trip towards the Twilight Zone. Queue the music, please.
Global Post’s Top 10.
No Roswell (New Mexico) allusion is complete without a simple image, about connections
Unrelated NMMI trivia:
I had a Texas Driver’s License. Legal age in NM was 21. I’d show my ID and they’d sell me beer. (Hint: I was 18, at best.)
The first commandant’s dog’s name was “Brownie.”
I spent two years in Roswell, way back when (pre-alien invasion). I’ve spent a total of two hours there, since. Best I can recall.