Why must they be in Amarillo?

Disclaimer: If any of you live in Amarillo and/or have strong positive feelings for this town, please skip this post and come back a different time.

My previous post about the time on Ben's watch never changing ended with the comment, "They must be in Amarillo."

If you are curious about Amarillo, please be assured that the idea of time never changing in Amarillo is not an understatement. About five years ago, Rob and I, with my friend Tracy, were getting ready to move across the country, and we wanted to close on our house, so we started driving from Idaho to Georgia. Since it was January, we decided to go south through New Mexico, across Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. The first night, we stopped to stay with my brother, who at the time lived in Albuquerque, NM. Then, the second night, we drove into Amarillo, TX. As we drove up, we looked at the clock in our car, and it was just turning 8:00. Rob went into the hotel to check in. While in there, he asked the receptionist "What is there to do in Amarillo?"

"Nothing," replied the receptionist.

"Isn't there a mall or something?"

"Yeah, there's a mall, but it's closing right now." (We had forgotten about the time change.)

"Isn't there some sort of park or movie theater?"

"Well, there's a bar about a mile away with pool tables."

"Isn't there anything else?"

"Nope."

So Rob comes out to the car, and I asked him if there was anything to do. He says, "Nope." And he related the above conversation. So we go into our room and watch whatever happened to be on TV. Since it was January, we couldn't even swim in the hotel swimming pool.

The next morning, we wanted to get an early start, so we left the hotel around 6 am. As we looked around for someplace to eat, the only place open seemed to be McDonalds. We walked in and up to the counter to order.

"You're up early on a Saturday," said the girl behind the counter.

"It's Tuesday, miss."

Appearently, Amarillo is the type of town where it's always Saturday, and there's nothing to do.

When we told my family this story in our weekly letter, my brother told his own story about when he was stuck there with a broken down car. He agreed that it's always Saturday, but there's really nothing to do.

A Conversation

Ben came to me and said, "Mama, put on my watch." (Mind you, this isn't really a watch, it's a pink bracelet that straps on like a watch, has a heart on the fron with a unicorn inside it and three tiny metal balls that the wearer is suppoed to try to get in holes.)



He then proceeded down the hall triumphanly calling out to his sister, "Jackie I have on my watch!"



Jackie sees the watch and says, "Ben is that your watch?"



"Yeah, I got my watch."



"What time is it?"



"It's 7:00." (I have no idea what the significance of 7:00 is BTW)



"It's 7:00 Ben?"



"Yeah, it's 7:00."



About 45 seconds later. . . "Ben, what time is it?"



"It's 7:00 Jackie."



"It was 7:00 last time. Isn't it 8:00 now?"



"No Jackie, it's 7:00."

I overheard the conversation and repeated it to Rob. He said, "Ben's smart, he knows that time doesn't move that fast."

But about 5 or 10 minutes later, Ben's 'watch' must have fallen off because he came back to get me to put it on again. Again, he runs down the hallway saying, "Jackie, I got my watch."

"What time is it?"

"It's 7:00"

"It has to be 8:00 now because it's been a long time since I asked."

"Nope, it's 7:00"

So I commented to Rob, "They must be in Amarillo."