I have an admission to make that you, dear reader, may have noticed: we have not been updating as quickly as we did while back East. I believe this is due to two primary factors: 1, By the time we leave a new town, we are reeling for days with the sensory experiences we've had, and it isn't until a few days later that we can find the words to share. And 2, by the time we have the verbiage, there is no wi-fi to be found.
So we trucked on West after Minneapolis, by this time getting a little bored with corn and soybean fields, despite the fact that they were miles wide and as far as the eye could see and generally still a foreign concept. Jared and I have been perfecting a tradition of blasting The Beatles' "Let It Be" first thing on the road. Generally, Jared drums his heart out on the steering wheel and I attempt to subtly harmonize the entire album. Don't worry, you will never be exposed to a public performance, so you can take your thumbs out of your ears. With no turns in the foreseeable future heading west on I-90, we shouted out the windows, "WHISPER WOOOOORDS OF WHIIIIZDOM, LET IT BEEE-EEEE-HEEEEE!" We settled into our little routine and kicked back to some podcasts of "Stuff You Should Know," possibly the most informative and interesting free podcast out there.
And then we reached the crest of the Eastern bank of the Missouri River in South Dakota. Our jaws dropped (we may have even drooled), as we descended into a perfect little river valley with 500 lb. gopher sized lumpy hills on the opposite bank. A storm was roiling in the distance and the dark gray sky made the lush green grasslands explode forward, polka-dotted occasionally with jet-black angus cows.
When we stopped to take some photos of the approaching storm, Howard Hines ("The name is Hines, Howard.") pulled over to see if our "engines had pooped out." After swapping bitter insults about the East coast (when in Rome, I guess), we were on our way.
As the sun started to set and the storm drew closer, we pulled off to take in the scenery. And what a landscape it was...I'm still stunned.
After that, it was vista after vista until Wall, SD, home of the stupidest drug store on the planet. Literally, it was frightening, much like the Niagra Falls welcome center - old broken antique statues of random circus participants, an animatronic dinosaur, and a Jackelope.
We stayed the night in Wall in order to explore the Badlands in the morning (they will have their own post soon), and by 10pm the entire town had shut down. We were almost to terms with the fact that we wouldn't be eating when we found that the drive-thru of a Dairy Queen was still open. A couple jumps on the automobile drive-through trigger later, we were waiting for our food by the window when a black suburban pulled up behind us, and a middle-aged man, clearly entertained by our blatant dismissal of societal norms (i.e. driving through a drive-in), began chatting about our trip. We explained our situation, which, coupled with (I think) our nerve to wait on foot for drive-through food, prompted him to say, "GOOD for you! Don't get stuck in a rut, like I did." His wife, sitting silently in the passenger's seat, averted her eyes.
We were served our food, took a photo with the drive-thru waitress (hey, despite appearances, we don't do this kind of thing ALL the time!), and took our seats at an outdoor picnic table in the dark across the street. We giggled our way through dinner, and I looked up to see that the man and his sombre wife had parked at a nearby table, and were sitting quietly under the South Dakota night sky, eating their dinner.
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