Kansas is a land of sighs and yawns when you’re driving
through it. As the fields roll by,
the yawns get longer and the sighs get heavier as you wonder whether you’ll
ever escape this purgatory of landscapes.
Kansas is actually kinda pretty, or as my uncle put it, “Not as ugly as
I thought it would be.” The problem is, Kansas changes very little as you head
west. The scenery feels like it’s on one of those screens used in old cowboy
movies to simulate motion. You swear you see the same field/horse/fence combo
over and over. By the time we got to the windmills, we were so desperate for something new, our excitement was
like seeing the New York skyline
for the first time. Or a unicorn.
But even windmills got old after a couple of minutes. Highway
hypnosis set in. The Adventure Van seemed more like a surfboard gently bobbing
on an ocean of grass. Speaking of grass, Diane’s daughter called her asking if
she was going to “smoke dope” in Colorado. At one point Diane corrected her
daughter, saying the “dope” was not “free” but merely “legal.”
Sigh. Free weed. There’s a thought exercise.
Conversations kept
us from complete boredom/madness and I learned something new: my mom was
married on a national day of mourning for Bobby Kennedy.
Sigh. National day of mourning. There’s an omen .
A couple of glitches in the visual Matrix gave two odd
billboards advertising the “world’s largest Czech egg” and “the 2nd
friendliest yarn store in the universe.”
So many questions, so little cell service to seek answers.
We pulled into a Dairy Queen where things when from odd to
sinister. Just like a cowboy movie, we open the door and suddenly the locals
stopped what they were doing to check out the strangers. Women in Mennonite?
Clothes were running the counter and lounging around. The lead cashier smiled
through tight thin lips and stared at me with cold unblinking eyes. The lead
cook had holsters containing what looked like a Taser and a Bible. Off in the
corner, an old rancher with a broken arm appeared to be running a meeting that
we might have interrupted. We ate in unease and saddled up The Adventure Van,
finally making it to Colorado.
Sigh of relief. Colorado. Hey, it looks like Kansas.
We pulled into Manitou Springs, where a hotel snafu forced
my uncle and I to stay at a different hotel than mom and Diane. They stayed at
the Magnuson Hotel. Uncle and I stayed at the Silver Saddle.
Diane said the room was nice enough but “smelled like
natural gas.”
Three stars.
The Silver Saddle surprised us by be extra clean and having
an extra bedroom.
Uncle: “The owner was nice.”
Four stars.
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