Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Midwestern Adventure: Nebraska!

I don't have a wholllllllllle lot to say about Nebraska because:

1. I was hungover for the "driving through Nebraksa" portion of my journey.

2. I'm going to save the wedding reception pictures (which did take place in Nebraska) for the wedding recap post that I'll get to in, you know, six months or so.

3. I took the back back back back roads, which were beautiful, but didn't have much to offer in terms of bathrooms and I was nervous that I was going to get a case of whiskey ass so I couldn't dilly dally.

4. I was P-I-S-S-E-D O-F-F because I was supposed to pick my aunt up in Omaha that afternoon and we were supposed to drive to Sioux Falls, SD that evening so that we had time to dawdle back from the Corn Palace the next day so that I could make my spray tanning appointment. So blah blah blah, the schedule was specific. What I did not factor into the schedule was that she would MISS HER FLIGHT.

I'm over it now, but that day I was SO TOTALLY PISSED because I was afraid my plans were going to be ruined and DAGNABBIT I wanted to see everything on my list. It took me a good three or four hours before the steam stopped coming out of my ears, even though I kept trying to shake it off and not let the change of plans make me miss out on Nebraksa. It actually ended up working out for the best so it's all good in the hood.

So anyway...not many pictures of Nebraska, but it sure was beautiful. They have historical markers everywhere and I kept stopping and reading them and none of them were all that thrilling -- mostly just stuff about how this land used to be the homestead of so-and-so and s/he wrote a book about it all called [Insert Something Pioneer-Sounding Here].

But look, children of the 80's!! Look where I was!



If there was a river I would have hired an Indian to help me across, but there wasn't a river or any buffalo to shoot with my arrow buttons and space bar and I did not die of dysentery. But I did get all geigh over how loud the trees were and I thought about whether it sounded the same to the people from the olden days:



Seriously, the sound of the trees and the corn and all the nothing was SO AWESOME. Listening to that damn tree was one of the few moments I really wished I'd had someone with me because it was like I'd stepped into Sarah Plain and Tall or something. Except I'm not even sure that took place in the midwest, but I'm sure you know what I'm getting at: It was old-timey and GORGEOUS.

Other than the wedding-related festivities that were to take place in Omaha, the only Nebraskan item on my agenda was a visit to Lawrence, NE. That's the town where the family from my favorite documentary ever, The Farmer's Wife, was from.

For years and years and years I've been wanting to get out there and just have a look around that town, but in a totally non-stalkery way, I swear. So I went and it was one of the nicer small, BFE towns I visited that week...nicer than it looked on TV. I had planned to have lunch in the local restaurant/bar but I was earlier than expected and after my big night in Cawker City, the thought of eating in a smoke-filled bar grossed me out. I didn't even get out of the car, which I half regret, but there really wasn't much of anything to see until I got to the east (?) side of town and saw, you know, a TANK:



It seemed awfully out of place and it was clearly a memorial for something, but I had whiskey ass to contend with so I kept on keeping on and didn't get out to investigate whatever it was memorializing:



I know you all think I'm a nutter for being so excited about CORN, but hangover or not, I did stop to take a picture of my fat face and the CORN:



That particular spot was the first good cell service I'd had in hours so I was parked alongside the road for a good 30 minutes while I checked my e-mail and made some calls and probably also alarmed the locals.

The interstate:



80 sure does look different out there than it does here, dontcha think??

I eventually made it to Omaha and thanks to my awesome pre-trip research, I knew that the World's Largest Ball of Stamps was in a section of Omaha called Boy's Town. I hadn't planned on making the stamps a priority, but I had time to kill before I could check into the hotel and I saw a sign for Boy's Town so I followed it and VIOLA:





They had these big bowls of canceled stamps that you could buy for a penny each, but I just liked sticking my hand into the stamps. I don't know why. Put a big bowl of anything in front of me and I want to fondle it.



The excitement on my face was probably less for the stamps and more for the lovely bathroom facilities at the stamp place:



And finally, there seemed to be a lot of these O! things around town, which I'm assuming stands for Omaha and not for Oprah:



The end. Until I get to Iowa, anyway.

2 comments:

Lauren Marie said...

You CRACK ME UP!

If there was a river I would have hired an Indian to help me across, but there wasn't a river or any buffalo to shoot with my arrow buttons and space bar and I did not die of dysentery.

starweaver said...

Hey you sure that O doesn't stand for the O face? ;-)