Trip day 1: What the hell is wrong with Iowa?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
My friend and I are going to Janesville, Wisconsin for the Fourth of July.
We aren’t going for the beer and cheese.
We are going to watch two poor souls get hitched.
These souls are of no relation to me. The soon-to-be-married’s family member is sitting to my left.
I’m just along for the ride and to provide moral support because this isn’t an ordinary wedding. It’s a family reunion, too.
Yeah. Marital bliss plus aunt Mo-Mo’s sloppy kisses, and uncle Buzzo’s dirty looks and slurred insults all in one ‘merican fueled weekend.
It’ll be a relaxed weekend, though. Today (last night) I’ll drink, eat (the Subway and Syrah were divine. Note to self: when going away, pack a corkscrew. Using a knife to open wine isn’t sexy or recommended), and write The Brood review (yeah. That didn’t happen). Tomorrow (today) is pool and winery day (if I’m lucky). Saturday is the wedding. Sunday we sit around and talk about my friend’s embarrassing life moments (yesss). Monday we leave.
We just made it through Des Moines, Iowa.
What are the entertaining things I’ve seen so far, you ask?
~ a restaurant named “Toot Toot”… This pretty much made my day.
~ a slew of signs telling of a mystical casino named “Terrible’s”. I figured we’d pass by the actual casino so I could see the terribleness for myself. Alas, we only drove by a gigantic 50-foot sign in the shape of Mr. Terrible. This was enough for me to decide that yes, this casino was most likely terrible, indeed.
~ many Amish craft centers.
~ many truckers like acknowledging my legs, which are propped up on the front dashboard, with a nod and a tilt of the hat.
~ a Basset Hound!
I was able to admire all of this while listening to my Beck collection (we’re currently on Midnight Vultures).
Yes. I’ve got my chain smoke Kansas flash-dance ass pants on, and I’ve got my Cadillac pants in my suitcase. I’m prepared.
Mile marker 251 ~ my friend points out three creepy signs of pained, pieced together collage faces on the right side of the highway. Thanks, Iowa!
While driving through the Midwest to the North, I’ve noticed something (to my dismay). I’m 25 percent hipster and 75 percent tech-kid/giant child ~
*looks down at Mac, BlackBerry, iPod playing the click-clacky sounds of Pantha Du Prince ~ notices all the holes in my jeans, the pretzel crumbs on my shirt, my cons and shoelaces with spastic designs ~ looks up and sees how messy and unkempt my hair is, my oversized sun glasses*
Damn. Damn. Damn.