The Oregon Hotel is old, rickety and delightful, and in the geographic center of Oregon, in the smallish town of Mitchell.

Weather has me holed up here - snowstorms east, rain west - a good night's sleep eludes me. The reason, some drunk hunter in 2C is blaring his television, his violent snores wafting between pauses in the television sound.

I look for a way to fall asleep, so I turn on the television set.  The Hills Have Eyes is playing. It's 2:31 A.M., and I am being entertained by the gruesome death of a family being eaten and tortured in the New Mexico desert.

But when the movie is over, I can still hear the snores and the sounds. I try to duplicate the strange sound coming from the room above on the television set in my room, but no channel exists.