The normal doesn't live here

We are in the Arizona desert looking for weird, and it seems to have been here waiting for us. People live in compounds and circle their campers like covered wagons inside chain link fences out in the desert plain. An ancient Indian man was walking down the middle of the highway with what appeared to be everything he owns, with not a town for fifty miles in either direction, and not looking the least bit distressed by his situation. It occurs to me that we are in a similar situation, but in a truck, which changes things somewhat. We tried to stay at the cleanest (according to yelp), kookiest motel in Gila Bend, but in the forty minutes between calling them and showing up there, someone else had taken the last room. Apparently that particular motel had not, in fact, been waiting for us and the other motel was more icky than kooky, so we made tracks for the Best Western up the road, as we sometimes like to do when normal seems okay enough. Thank you, desert, for being so far out in the middle of nowhere that the rules don't matter anymore.