TRTD 4: Floundering In Floyd

After deciding not to buy me bike, my reluctant prospect recommends I drive through Floyd, which I consided a great idea. There should be relics from the 60's all over the place. After backtracking two or three times I have ended up in Floyd an hour later. There had to be a story here, even if I wasn't going to the festival. Iwas wrong. It turns out there are no girls here with flowers in there hair, very disappointing.

I'm in Oddfella's Cafe and I might be the oddest fellow in here. I'm trying to blend. Now that my beer has arrived and the hummus is on it's way, I'm starting to feel much better. The Dead Guy Rogue Ale isn't bad. I'm might have to order another to wash down this hummus.

It's opening night in Floyd, not a soul on the street and only seven in the cafe. The guy on stage playing solo cowbell and the Kazoo, not especially well. The hummus finally comes. It looks like a stone cold lump of day old mashed potatoes and tastes like raw falafel. A few small bites has left the taste of bad hummus in my mouth 12 hours later. Next time I'll order the organic T-shirt. That sounds tasty. OK, no story here. I am pressing southward. I see something in the distance. It is Tom Bodette has left the light on for me.