Trip Trans America — Part Six

Herein begins my haze. 

I started the day with my longest drive of the trip: nearly fourteen hours from Montana to North Dakota. My upset stomach from the prior night had gotten worse, and now I had a headache to go along with. Or rather, it felt like my head was going to explode. A few hours in I pulled over for a cat nap.

Continuing the drive, I saw: a door leading to a casino behind a rest stop, the origin of i-94, one truck towing another à la catdog, a squadron of grasshoppers marking the way to a chinese buffet, a city named after my cousin.

Buttes bade me farewell on the edge of Montana and a pink sunset bade me welcome to North Dakota. With a population of 134, Medora is the only incorporated town in Billings County. 

My headache persisted in the morning, but I managed to do yoga in my room. Afterwards I drank a patriotic cup of coffee while a passing freight train made the wooden porch shake under me. 

I really wanted to walk around Theodore Roosevelt National Park, but quickly discovered that wasn’t feasible. So I resigned myself to more car.

Upon entrance, the road took me up high onto one of the buttes. The cars on the highway below looked so small & slow.

What’s the difference between a butte and a mountain? Mountains are formed when land pushes itself up, buttes are formed when rivers carve land down. Sadly, those influential rivers are today so small. I imagined a torrent but found a trickle.

Not far into the drive I passed the Prairie Dog Metropolis. Now I had no idea what a prairie dog looked like, but expected something similar to, you know, a dog. Instead they were so tiny it took me a couple minutes to see them at all. Popping out of their little holes, turning their heads, hiding behind mounds, scurrying around, scurrying down.

A sign warned me not to report the coal vein fire up ahead. Guess they have it under control.

Fortunately I was able to take many short walks around the park’s vistas: The Wind Canyon Trail, the Skyline Vista, Buck Hill, the Coal Vein Nature Trail. The terrain felt prehistoric, and while I didn’t see any dinosaurs I did see a herd of buffalo in the distance.

Looking uphill from my hiking trail to the cars on the road, the Fellowship of the Ring theme song popped into my head.

I hiked out past the end of the trail at Buck Hill and soaked in the silence. Yes you could hear the wind, crickets, an occasional faraway train. But that’s it, that’s really it. 

Buck Hill stands because its bedrock was stronger than the rest of the river’s, so it didn’t erode with the rest. The strong become hills, the weak become valleys. 

Seeing a place like this feels like watching time pass in fast motion.

Hiking the coal vein trail I passed a big red rock that appeared as if, had I brushed it on my way past, it would have fallen on me. 

Driving towards the exit I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I slammed on the breaks and backed up. Yep, that’s a buffalo, right on the side of the road just munching on some grass. A mini traffic jam piled up to gape at it. Saw another on my way out but didn’t stop the second time.

I’d planned to eat at Boots, for no better reason than that I’d seen it on my way into town. But on my walk over I saw a place across the street with smoke redolent of barbecue rising from its chimney. So I ate at Little Missouri, a place that it turns out was established in 1883, the first year Roosevelt came to Medora.

I had a dry time in North Dakota in honor of TR, who was very nearly a teetotaler. Well, and in honor of my headache. And my liver?

Roosevelt is a great example of why you just gotta go out there and live your life, no matter the consequences. A sickly child, not expected to live into full adulthood, he decided to build up his strength and attack life with vigor rather than shelter himself from the world. He had reason to wake up every morning, looking forward to all the things he got to do. That’s more salutary than anything I can think of.

His exploits are the underlying theme of the town. His hunting, his natural conservation. I loved the story of him from The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt in which he rafted down a nearly-frozen river in pursuit of a thief and brought him to justice. Through his lens one can see the old wild west.

Driving out, a lone cross bid me farewell from atop a butte. 

While I charged I sat at a coffee shop patio, drinking coffee & sparkling water while eating banana bread and reading on my kindle. A grey-haired man walked past me and said, “You look like a man who’s got it all figured out. Just felt I ought to say that, so you can see how you come off.” Feeling and appearing don’t always bear much resemblance.

Between the Dakotas my mind resided in Stephen King’s Dark Tower. And speaking of dark, I swear the basement in which I stayed in Rapid City was haunted. Empty frames on the walls, a skull on the coffee table, weird lights hanging on the walls.

That evening was the worst I felt the whole trip. Forget the anxiety of arriving in a new place, or of the haunted house — my head was going to cave in on itself. I couldn’t imagine spending all night in my room though so I walked into town. 

There are so many Minnesota plates here. Why is that? Minnesota is close to Chicago and Chicago’s in the east. And I’m in the west. Only… I’ve come back so far east now that I’m starting to circle back to my starting point. Minnesota borders the Dakotas — that makes sense when you look at a map. It makes less sense when you’ve been driving so long that you forget how closely everything connects.

From here on out it was hard to shake the feeling that I was going in circles, lost and confused with no direction in mind. Didn’t help that I’d passed the town of New England that day.

I walked towards town, the headache having extended to my entire body. Crossing over a river restored a bit of tranquility though. After passing a piece of the berlin wall and a dakota grain silo, I found their downtown to be pretty cute.

The red flashing hand gave me 11 more seconds to cross the street. With 5 remaining I was ten feet from the sidewalk when a truck wheeled around the turn, slamming his breaks to avoid hitting me. I stopped in my tracks then continued across. He pulled over and shouted “Doesn’t flashing red mean you’re not supposed to walk?” I didn’t deign to respond. He shouted again “Thought so!” and slammed on the gas.

I sat down at the first lowkey bar I could find, the Brass Rail Lounge. Pretty much a hole in the wall. Felt I needed a martini, so the bartender graciously served one in a whiskey glass and then a second in a stemless wine glass. It tasted the same as it would have in a martini glass.

The TV played Black Hills Fox News. A couple people trickled in. “You here for the foosball tournament?” “Just here for a drink.. and for your matches, because my lighter disappeared this morning. That’s my day for ya”

Seated for dinner at the bar of Silver Spoon, I looked out the windows at life starting to pick up. Inside everyone was pretty touristy, all those both foreign & domestic here for the national park tours. Outside it was far more local: a number of people of Native American descent, a man walking down main street with a rifle strapped across his back and a handgun strapped to his thigh, kids dancing alone in a plaza to “we’re the kids in America,” a guy whose shirt read “Guns Whiskey Steak and Freedom” (best enjoyed concurrently, I’d think).

The Firehouse Brewery, established in 1991, bills itself as SD’s oldest operating brewery. Though maybe they’re referring to how their brewing hall was built in 1915. I got the Supercharged IPA. They had a bunch of patches on the walls. I got the Smokin Betty. Oh the patches are all for different cities! I got the lager. Hmm that House Recipe ketchup is the same I had in at Buckley’s in Delaware. I got the Red Ale. Their vegetable of the day, green beans with bacon, is more meat than vegetable. I got the Smokejumper Stout. Patrons play musical chairs at the bar just as gamblers play musical chairs at the poker table; the revolving door never ends.

One day, after writing the beginning of Part Three of this blog, I walked out of my airbnb and thought “Where am I? El Paso? … No dude, you’re in South Dakota.” 

Why do they get so many floods here? Why do they like cookies so much? 

I spent some time outside. Walking under an overpass and smelling the dirt, I thought wow, this is the dirt the dinosaurs died in. On a hike to Little Devil’s Tower branches sticking out of the dirt looked like Where The Wild Things Are. Are those dead branches or dead antlers? Welp they’re dry in any case. The dirt underfoot sparkled. Is that the Tower of Joy? A little kid said as I passed him and his dad, “he’s a looooone hiker.” Ladybugs squirmed over a rock as I scaled up using my hands. Branches looked like Robert Baratheon’s stag helmet. Couldn’t you just picture dinosaurs roaming around here? That boulder looks either like an alligator or a mushroom. Big one was shaped like a boot, or even a boot on top of a boot. Is that old man of the mountain? No we’re not in the live free or die state. Last boulder looks like a t-rex or something. 

Four faces stared out of me from the rock. That sure is Mount Rushmore. Teddy Georgey Tommy Abe. Really gotta finish Team of Rivals. Why are there so many corvettes around? All of different colors? And ATVs driving on the actual roads. 

“[Teddy] Roosevelt seems fairly to have leaped with life. He kidnapped energy and carried it into the Nation’s home … He remains undrawn, none will engrave him. His spirit is still at large, uncaptured by artist or sculptor.” 

Crazy Horse, like Rushmore, I spied first from the road. How did South Dakota get all the best sculptors? Or maybe just the best rock. North Dakota sure is s.o.l.

Driving out to Wind Cave National Park, I kinda got lost. There were a bunch of bison around. My map does say I’m in the town of Buffalo Gap. One alone atop a ridge, many in groups, some prairie dogs behind me just chirp chirp chirping. Did I just drive over a spotted yellow & black snake?

I came upon 266th street out in the middle of nowhere, which made me feel as if someone tore up Manhattan and scattered its pieces into the wind. 

At this point I was basically just wandering around dirt roads. A locked gate? Yup, this is a dead end.

Finally found the wind cave visitor center but it was so packed so I thought nah. Did find a little hike nearby, the canyon trail. Didn’t see much canyon though — trail honestly could have been more scenic considering its name. Still nice though — just the wind out here, and the insects. And *flinches* is that a gunshot? Oh right, I had passed a shooting range. Bang bang bang. Looks like the shooters are park rangers. Crack crack blam. 

On the drive to Nebraska I saw sign after sign promoting “Wall Drug.” Think it was a town. Yet who on earth would come up with such a name? Really added onto the perception of transient realities I’d been feeling from listening to The Dark Tower. “Kids Love Wall Drug” one read. “Wall Drug as seen on CMT.” Is this some joke? Made up to test whether drivers are paying attention after such long hours on the road? “Something to crow about: Wall Drug”

I found myself at the three corners: North Sioux City SD, Sioux City IA, and South Sioux City NE. 

Walking downtown for dinner in Omaha I smelled horses. But couldn’t tell from where. Then I passed an abandoned-looking building, and gazing in I sure enough saw a stable for carriage horses inside.

Sat down for a steak at Omaha Prime. I’d passed another steak option closer to my airbnb, but it was closed and likely out-of-business. Anyways, not so bad to walk a little further and get a feel for Omaha’s Old Market.

The painting next to me looked like Moby Dick. Or mayhaps you could say like Godzilla pointing up at the sky. My KC Strip, the way I cut it at least, looked like a T-Rex. My sides were very meh but the meat was soso good.

Walking off my meal, I was sad to see most of the riverfront under construction. I did eventually find some grass alongside an artificial pond though. Arrived at the perfect time to witness a beautiful moment of all these geese & ducks swimming over fish big & small, then coming on land to fraternize on a small hill. Perhaps ten other people were there to watch with me as the sun set.

Back in town the horse carriages reminded me of those I saw in San Antonio, though not as brightly lit. For the second time in two nights, I went to a brewery that featured Firehouse Red and had an exchange with the bartender as follows: “Can I try the pilsner?” “Just want to try it? Or…” “Yes I’ll have it”

Two guys across from me actually were drinking samples though (not flights, mind you). So I suppose my wording was more ambiguous than I thought.

I left in search of different vibes and came across a cigar bar. “You guys have like.. A cigar menu?” “You mean the humidor?” It was massive, and the bartender’s recommendation of the Bones cigar did not disappoint.

Ended the night at a Tiki Bar.

Woke up and broke fast. Drove by the Berkshire Hathaway HQ, then hit the road for Kansas. More road signs illumined my route: “I am the way and the truth and the life” “Scenic Area: Bazaar Cattle Pens” “24 West for Manhattan” “Emporia State University: Stingers Up!” I decided between taking a left for Holton versus keeping on straight for Horton. Felt like a professional itinerant. On is the way to truth & light. On where though? 

I guess it’s a Sunday? Right cause I’m pretty sure yesterday was a Saturday. Life goes on in the land of the living. 

Before my first thirty minutes in Wichita had elapsed, I knew I wanted to stay longer. As in more than the one night I was booked for. What was it about Wichita though? I couldn’t tell.

Sadly, longer stays just aren’t in the scope of this trip, my longest being three nights. Have to walk the course before you can play it. Sometimes it felt like all I had time to do in a place was to learn what I should do there, not to actually do it.

How would I pitch Wichita to a friend? Well you’re only a nine-hour drive from Santa Fe (their city flag even looking like that of New Mexico). Like Minnesota being close to Chicago, this proximity freaked me out, reinforced the impression that all I’m doing is spinning around until dizzy and then stumbling off in whichever direction I can.

Back to Wichita though, I felt it had no pretensions. Here I could really get some space and think. Imagine if you stayed two months in such a place — the only people who ever visited you would be those who really wanted to see you, not those who socialize to stave off boredom in a big city.

I walked by some girls taking pics of each other in front of a major downtown tourist attraction a concrete wall. 

I got some beer outdoors and then indoors. While waiting for food, I zoomed with my friends to plan our Labor Day trip to Vegas. “This trip feels like the longest weekend of my life.”

Postprandial, I noted a hybrid cigar & martini bar nearby, and decided to make it two cigars in two nights. In fact, this was my second cigar bar since I’d had a soaped shower, the Omaha airbnb being short of such amenities.

Nursing a dirty vodka martini I chatted with Andreas, the bartender. From Peru, he came to the US at age 10, and can speak a little French to go along with his fluency in Spanish. As evidence of the difficulty in mastering the English language, he shared as example: “In matters it matters what matters you matter with.” 

The Bones cigar in Omaha far outkicked this Ashton cigar in Wichita. Yet Wichita had not only martinis but also a live band; hard to argue with that.

Next I spoke with a patron wearing Gucci glasses, who revealed that he lacks military clearance to leave the country. I told this man of mystery of my feeling upon arriving in Wichita. “Oh yeah that’s the vortex; once you’re here, nowhere else matters.” I told him of my trip. “As of now, the only contiguous state I’ve never been to is Oklahoma.” “You know its only a few hours away!! You gotta at least go if you’re here!” “Haha yeah, I’m going there tomorrow. Oklahoma City.” “Why you going to Oklahoma City? You gotta go to Tulsa.” I gave him a mini pitch for Game of Thrones, invoking “He who passes the sentence should swing the sword.” 

On my way home I heard the rooftop bar before I saw it. I sauntered on up — why not? Dude stopped me short though: “No gym shorts!” I didn’t even try to argue that my Budweiser shorts aren’t gym shorts and slunk home to pass out in the comfiest bed I slept in all trip.

On my way south the next morning, I was in the left lane going 90 in a 75 and bumping to music when an unmarked black car pulled up behind and flashed red & blue lights. I pulled over. “So you were going a little fast there.” “Yeah.” “See you got Illinois plates, what brings you all the way out here?” “On a roadtrip across the country before moving to LA.” “Oh where else are you going!?” 

He gave me a written warning and directions to my next-day destination of Little Rock. Nice guy. Yet it didn’t feel right to turn my music back on, much less speed again, so I drove the final twenty minutes into Oklahoma in silence.

Driving the speed limit sometimes feels absolutely ridiculous; at one point I was the slowest person in the right lane. Following signs for Dallas, I stopped at the Riverwind Casino in Norman. At the poker table I played pretty aggressively and was up a bit at first, before catching some poor luck and going bust. Oh well.

I walked around the nearby OU campus then grabbed a bite and a drink. Town was pretty dead though.

Driving to my airbnb, the sun lay near the horizon as I looked at my car map’s projected arrival time of 7:16. Wait is that AM or PM? ……. Oh right, it’s PM. 

In case that wasn’t enough, as I sat down at a brewery after dropping my stuff off I forgot for a moment which state I’m in.

Got some good ole fashioned fried okra with my burger. Mmmmmmmm.

Passing a weed dispensary on my walk back home I had to ask “Is it legal here??” “No, but we get a lot of businesspeople coming through OKC who have medical cards.” 

A cat started at me from the middle of the street. It better watch out; not every cat can expect a savior à la Haru in The Cat Returns. Back at the apartment I encountered two more cats, this time in inanimate form, who had each other to stare at.

Driving out the next morning I passed two dogs in the back of a pickup truck, each grinning ear-to-ear. 

I simply couldn’t bring myself to try the gas station’s Bourbon Pecan flavor of coffee. Guess I’ll always wonder.

A white cross looked down on the road from on top of a hill, trees parted before it like the red sea. 

I passed the turn-off for Tulsa, Kickapoo Turnpike, the tolls of which require exact change. Thanks to The Power Broker I now knew the etymology of “turnpike,” though I can’t quite say the same for “Kickapoo.” 

Signs again related the local flavor: “Save Education: Vote Democratic” “Supporting those who are building a Better Oklahoma: Oklahoma Oil & Natural Gas” “Pig Trail Scenic Bway”

East Oklahoma was a sea of trees, the tops undulating like waves. 

I found myself in Arkansas, home of my grandmother. Had been once or twice before to see her family in Jonesboro. Before long I crossed a river into Little Rock.

Walked around to find some food. Another dead town, it felt not unlike Greenville or El Paso. The only open Mexican place looked a bit too kitschy, so I settled on noodles & dumplings.

Did yoga both at night and in the morning, my body in dire need.

Next morning I got a tofu scramble at the Root Cafe on Main Street. My mom would have liked this place. 

Admired the globes outside the Clinton Library while waiting for it to open. Inside I enjoyed the videos about his upbringing and campaign, but felt a bit bored by the content of his presidency. Or maybe it was just that I felt bored by all the text. Pretty building though — loved learning about the decoration of the Oval Office (Avenue in the Rain was first displayed in 1917 but might as well have been painted in 2001) and about state gifts (which the president may accept on behalf of the people but not keep). 

From there I drove towards my family in Tennessee. 

Herein ends my haze. 

In Part Seven my trip concludes with homecoming in Chicago and the final push to LA.