mother of rivers

The last time I woke up in this town, I was in a bunk on a dark and deserted tour bus. I had partied with Travis Tritt’s band all the way from Peoria, and when I opened the door, somewhere between Branson and Paducah, to the Cape Girardeau sun I felt pretty ragged. I stumbled into the motel, booked a room, showered and hitched a ride with Tim McGraw down to the Civic Center to rejoin the band. The guys gave me knowing looks, and the only thing that got me through that day (and night) was a Cherry Coke.
This time I checked out sunset over the Mississippi River, went early to bed and, apart from having spent much of the night being chewed on, apparently by chiggers, this morning feels much better. It's a school day.