Day 70, Davenport Iowa

 

Day 70, Davenport Iowa

     I have had long days of cycling and often fall asleep before I am able to record the day’s events.  I have some notes from which I am now reconstructing some of my observations.

     Davenport is a lovely city on the banks of the Mississippi River.  I was able to have a beer on the riverside park while I listened to a local swing band play in the pavilion.  The evening was cool and I was able to watch a paddle wheel bring tourists up the river from down south. 

      I am grateful for the hospitality of Dustin and Jodi who gave me a place to stay.  There flat was a bit crowded, but they invited me to spend the night in their sign shop along one of the commercial streets.  I found a place among the mysterious looking printing machines used for the production of signs, locked the front door, and crawled into my sleeping bag for an early bed time.

       About 30 minutes later, there was a loud knocking on the glass door to the shop.  I arose from my sleep and walked over in my pajamas to answer.  There stood there a young woman with 4 large insulated bags.  She was relieved that I was there and she asked if she could put this food inside for the reception in the morning.  In my confused state, I invited her to do so.  I re-locked the door and went back to bed.

      Sleep did not come easily as I began to worry about the food.  Dustin did not mention anything about a reception, and the space seemed small for a gathering of any size.  In my ego-centric imagination I thought perhaps the reception was for me (though Dustin is the only person in town who knows of my existence). The large printing machines looked ominous in dark.

     I arose early, packed up my things and began to cycle across the Mississippi River.   There is a wonderful network of trails on both sides of the river with a lovely bike-bridge which spans the river.  I stopped in the middle and marveled at the river traffic moving below me.  A thought came to me that I should probably tell someone about the food in the sign shop.  I phoned Dustin at a work site to inform him of the nocturnal delivery.  He was even more confused that I was.  He began to question me which only revealed the magnitude of my ignorance.  He then left the site, returned to shop, and realized that food was intended for the grand opening of a beauty salon next door.  The fifty people who had gathered there for festive opening were standing around hungry and grateful for the transfer of food.  For the rest of the day I pondered what would have happened if I had decided not give a call to Dustin.   I must remember to not spend the night in foreign sign shops.