I am so easily amused. All it takes to make me smile, in fact, laugh out loud, is to look in my rearview mirror and see my little bony friends bobbing along to "Chattahoochee". Or to Shaggy, they seem to like both.
Last night I rolled into Mitchell fairly early. It only took about 3 minutes to see the Corn Palace - which was fabulous - I think I will decorate like that. This years theme was -surprise!- Lewis and Clark. I don't know if I have commented on the pervasiveness of Lewis and Clark yet. It seems everywhere they slept, sat, saw, or pointed in the general direction of is named after them. And some things that they never had a clue about are named after them as a mark of respect. One motel had a sign that said "Lewis and Cark would have slept here, if we'd existed". Anyway.
I found myself with an abundance of time, and little to do. It was too late to drive on, and too early to go to bed, and I couldn't find much else of interest. It reminded me a lot of AG, my hometown. Same size and everything. I decided to find something to amuse me at the dollar store conveniently located across the parking lot from Walgreens, my rest stop. What a find! A puzzle, which amused me late into the night, $1.00. Strawberry scented glittery body gel, a little disapointing as it rubbed off immediately, but only $1.00. And the best find of all, 12 glow in the dark little skeletons, to make my truck halloweeney, $1.00. I strung them up in the slide window between the cab and bed, and they have warmed my heart since then.
I am starting to worry about Halloween. Were am I going to be? What am I going to do? What am I going to be? C'mon folks, let's get some invitations. Don't let me spend my favorite holiday alone. I need a midwestern party! And if you have any ideas for costumes, let me have 'em. The best I've come up with so far is a road. Cheap, easy: black clothes with orange lines down the front. Maybe I can put some treadmarks on Stripes, stick him on my pants and call him roadkill.
This morning I visited Little Fellow's Grave. Had no idea he existed until I saw the sign and followed it. Turns out he was kinda a proto-rail fan. In the late 1880's he was a homesteader that, every day, without fail, would wave to the train going by, on which "Big Bill" Chambers was a brakeman. He died in 1890, and was buried right next to the same line. Every memorial day, Big Bill would stop the train there and do a memorial service. He never even knew his name.
I've decided I hate Michael Paternati. If I ever wanted to write a book about my roadtrippin', it's too late, cause everything I think of is already in his "Driving Mr. Albert". He even has some of the same inflections I
have, that kind of self-conscious young writer thing, but he does it better than I ever could, and he has a catch. That whole Einstein's brain thing. Think they'll lend me Dillinger's penis for a short trip? I need something in formaldehyde!
Tonight I am in another slightly creepy spot. It's actually a hostel, located in a gorgeous countryside setting, inside a lodge. And it's real lodge-y. It's how I always imagined summer camps were. It's how every Friday
the 13th ever started. There's 3 creaking floors, big wrought iron chandeliers, gingham curtains, a dining room with seating for about 75, 3 pianos, 2 TV's, countless rooms, chairs, and sofas, a foosball table, and
guess how many people are staying here. Yep, just me. I opened a door looking for the laundrey room and found the stairs to the basement. Way too Evil Dead for me. I really wish that door had a lock on it.
Did I mention almost lifesize wood carvings of mountain men in the corners?
Or the doorway full, I mean full, of little black beetles with red V's on them?
But it's cheap, and beautiful, with internet and cable. Rock on. The sun is setting now. If you don't hear from me in a couple days, call your cable access chanel and offer to sell your story.