We’re staying in a kind of plain wood, ranch-style motel adjacent to a fake Disneyworld “Old West” town (like the Spahn ranch of the early ‘60s but built for easily impressionable tourists rather than the film industry). The place is a mile from the western rim of the Grand Canyon, site of the dreaded Skywalk (a beacon for Shallow Hal types) as well as where the GC helicopter rides leave from. Tatiana is scheduled for a 45-minute thrill excursion at noon.

There’s nothing to do here but read or surf so we wound up crashing (partly out of boredom) around 10:45 pm or thereabouts. But then (and God help me) I awoke at 2:30 am, and I knew I was stone cold fucked — unable to sleep, unable to turn on a light with which to read Glenn Kenny’s Goodfellas book for fear of waking Tatiana, unable to watch a movie on the MacBook…stuck in a post-midnight, pre-dawn void, sitting on the outdoor porch in relative blackness with only Twitter and WordPress postings for distraction.

After the chopper ride we’re driving back to Flagstaff with plans to catch Tenet at one of the plexes. IMAX would be nice but we’ll see how the access and timing work out…