"A series of snorts, grunts, and whistles emanate from behind a bedroom door that is set along the far wall of the large room where I lay. After drawing the short straw, or in my case, a short hackle feather, I’ve spent the last few hours tossing and turning on a lumpy couch that smells of mothballs. My head aches and my mouth feels like I ate a fistful of cotton candy minus the candy. My eyes are not yet accustomed to the growing light." — Read on... | 
