On traveling...

As most of you know, I'm playing in a touring country band now. We had the chance, thanks to a friend of a friend, to stay in a five-star hotel in Atlanta for a couple of days last week.

First of all, imagine these guys (yes, I'm in the photo) walking into a five-star midtown Atlanta hotel, complete with doormen and snooty foreign desk clerks.Clerk: "Are you sure you have the right hotel?"

Jake and Kyle: "Here's the confirmation number."

Turns out we didn't have the right hotel (long story), but because Eric (far right) is a smooth-talkin' guy, we still got to stay there at a severely discounted rate. For two nights.

On day two in the hotel:

Well-dressed guy in elevator (to Corey, center): So you're doing some construction work here in the hotel?

Corey: Hell, no! We're stayin' here!

The weird part about the trip was the growing sense of disconnect I had. Working at the Herald, I'm used to being immersed in current events.

Spending Tuesday through Saturday on the road, we got all of our New Orleans news through the Fox News Channel (the guys in the band's favorite).

Even though I really, really dislike Bill O'Reilly, I actually found myself agreeing with him a couple of times as he jumped on various federal officials over their response to the disaster.

It was a little funny to see ol' Bill trying to direct relief efforts from his New York desk, though. "You hear that? We need security at the hospital at XXX street!"

Yeah, right, General O'Reilly.

Driving between Atlanta and Auburn twice, we had the chance to see several convoys headed to Mississippi and Louisiana with storm aid, including one near-endless line of electrical repair trucks with New Jersey plates.

Those guys rock. I tried to do my part Tuesday morning by donating blood before we left for the Auburn gig.

Note to self: never donate blood before a show. I almost died at the end of the show. Guys from the bar were putting orange juice and water in me - they said I looked pretty bad.

Anyway, after two nights at the Georgian Terrace, we were back to the Plaza Motel in Auburn, a distinctly .5-star experience.

It's alternately called either "The Crack Shack" or "The Haji Hilton" by the gentlemen in County Line. Haji's a nice dude - he owns the Plaza, and always tries to hook us up in his special broken-English way.

The Plaza is one of those hotels where you occasionally get offered very special "room service" by freelance contractors roaming the grounds.

I joked Friday night that the next time we stay there (that'll be this Saturday night) I'm bringing a black light to go over the room for... stuff, C.S.I. style.

It was universally agreed that a black light would be a singularly bad idea. We don't want to know what's happened in those rooms.

Coming later this week: the Plaza Motel's welcome/check-in sheet - a foray into Engrish.