As aforementioned, there is quite a bit of rocking out whilst driving. This sometimes leads to the occasional wrong turn, and this time our failure to pay attention took us up north into Red Cloud, Nebraska.
NERD ALERT!
Red Cloud, Nebraska, was home to none other than Willa Cather, whose books I really, really love. I know it's not her most popular, but I am a huge fan of "Song of the Lark," in which the prairie features heavily. You can definitely see the influence of the prairie on her work, and from the picture on the left (which is of the Cather memorial prairie) it's easy to see how it can burn its way into your heart. However, the denizens of Red Cloud were less than impressive.
We were pretty hungry at this point, and went to a little bar and grill. We didn't know whether it was a seat-yourself establishment, so we sat at the bar, figuring it would be the easiest. The bartender, Cody, came over, barked "What d'y'want?" and then slapped a pink flyswatter right next to my hand, promptly smushing a fly on the bar. (He did this several more times.) We'd been driving for a while and had some serious biological imperatives to deal with, or we would've left, so we both ordered a diet pepsi (slam, slam here you go, grunt, "WHAT ELSE?") and then we asked for menus. (Slam, slam, what you want?) I tried to make small talk, but Cody was not interested, and by the time Lizzie and I had hit the ladies' room, our food had been unceremoniously dumped in front of us.
While this was going on, there was a huge crowd of people talking politics, and they were so hateful and ignorant that I suddenly lost my appetite. There's room for all sorts of political leanings, but racism, sexism and homophobia shouldn't figure in. The whole environment was hostile, so Lizzie said "Sir, can we have the check?" to Cody, who screamed at her "DON'T CALL ME SIR." and we paid and took off, heading back south. You are no Neighbors Rosicky, people.
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