Trippy Denver

Arrived in Denver on Friday night of Labor Day weekend and met up with an old friend from high school. Hadn’t seen him in at least 20 years. We had happy hour sushi and sake and caught up briefly on the last two decades. It was a blast! A friend of his stopped by to have a drink and mention that this great band, Vinyl, would be playing at Cervantes that night and they were going to get tickets and wanted to know if we were in. Cervantes was apparently a club that used to be THE place to play on your way from anywhere east to Los Angeles. So folks like Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn played there.



We first headed to some “cowboy bar” where I had the pleasure of meeting Chuck, a passerby just lookin’ for a drink on this end of the summer evening. The guys had just bought shots of whiskey, which I don’t do, so I offered mine to Charles and he accepted. He told me a little about himself. He used to be a horse wrangler and had been kicked a few too many times in the arse and had even had a few run-ins with larger game. I told him about my near-death experience and he sympathized. He had just lost his job which was why he was asking for the kindness of strangers so I gave him a fiver and apologized but we were heading out to see a band in Five Points now. We hugged and we were both on our way.



When we arrived at Cervantes, the band hadn’t yet started so my friend and I went to this speakeasy-type place that mostly (primarily) catered to African American folks. He had always wanted to check it out since it was “known” by many. We went up the stairwell and on the door was a sign that read something like, “Don’t bother coming in unless you want a drink.” In other words, this isn’t a place to people watch or simply see it for yourself. We sat down at the bar and it was just a regular little hole in the wall but I guess since there seems to be quite the color divide here, it was novel for a Denver local. For me, it’s not so far fetched for me to be a minority (white) in an all-Black bar. But whatevs.



When we went back to Cervantes, things were getting started and the band was incredible. From what my friend Sarah tells me, it sounded like a jam band. She defined that as being a band that doesn’t necessarily play a song list but more so just plays. And yes, that was this. Everyone in the room was tripping or stoned or drunk off their ass but they were the friendliest group of people I’ve ever danced in a room with. It was a sight to see, the women especially. They were dancing in their own little world. There was one woman in light blue jeans, the ones we used to covet in the late 80s, and she was getting’ down to this psychedelic rock/jazz music as if she was pole dancing to gangsta hip hop. It was hilarious! And then there was Amanda who was lovin’ life and would dance with anyone who needed a partner. She was very sweet. THEN, there was this other woman, maybe in her early 40s, high as a kite, doing the whole Woodstock waltz all over the dance floor. She didn’t really talk to many folks but didn’t need to. She was havin’ her own party in her head. I make fun but really I enjoyed watching these folks enjoy themselves. It was all very communal and fun. And although I was sober, I prefer to be in these situations. Otherwise, I may not have recalled all of this.



The unique thing that I had never seen before in a music venue was artists painting on platforms while dancing and groovin’ out to the tunes. Most of it was the black light, psychedelic-type paintings of whatever crazy thoughts were going through their heads at the moment. There was straight up painting, some airbrushing and I think I even saw some finger painting (unless that was just corrective).

After Cervantes, we went to a friend’s house to hang a bit but had to go to another friend’s house to feed her pug. That’s where we stayed and it was so comfy there. I was the designated driver of the evening (again) and it was funny. Apparently, I drove the length of downtown Denver because the paranoid folks were worried I’d forget a turn, not use my directionals or go too fast in a 30 mph section. Hilarious! At one point in the ride, we passed this guy in his car having what looked like a hissy fit. I was told to look away. LOL. But then right at the same moment, there was a man on the side of the road digging up his lawn at 3:30 in the morning as if he were going to dump a body in the hole he’d made. To this, the lovely lady in the car with me said, “And this is the landscaping district.” Best line of the night.



In the morning, driving back to our cars, I got to see a wide variety of Denver architecture. Loved Bonnie Brae Ice Cream shop on University Blvd. and fell in love with the little bungalows in the Cherry Creek neighborhood. So adorable. I want one. NOTE to friends: Denver bungalow for EO for Christmas. Thanks.

I can’t seem to exit Wyoming just yet. Maybe it's the cocktails, liquor, music and comedy!

I want to leave but it’s so massive and I decided not to go west into Idaho and south into Utah. I am heading toward Denver and then east into Kansas and so on. Leaving Dubois, I needed something to eat and stopped at Fort Something-or-other. It ended up being an Indian reservation called Wind River. It’s funny because us New Yorkers called these folks Native Americans being all PC but they seem to call themselves Indians and white folks call them that here too. Who knows? From what I could see, there weren’t any restaurants, just the convenience store that sold fast food stuff. I got a corn dog (can’t have enough of those) and some trail mix. Noticed that most of the young men in the area were dressed as if they were in a street gang in Tijuana. What’s up with that? I also passed a stinky skunk on the road and pondered whether skunks always smell the same no matter where they are. Is that a stupid Deep Thoughts-like question or is it not so bad? I mean, has the smell never evolved? Can it change based on what the skunk eats? Okay, enough about that.

On the radio, I heard that the feds in Tulsa shut down a meth lab operating out of a stairwell in a state office building. Yikes.

Later, I stopped for gas in Walcott and had to use the facilities. I walked inside and the cashier instantly pointed to the women’s room and said, “You from New York?” Affirmative. I did my business and on the way out, I asked, “Well you know where I’m from, where are you from?” Yonkers, he said. But I left there 50 years ago via Tacoma, Washington. Said he’s never been back, which was a lie. I think folks just like to say that because it announces their distaste of the east coast. So odd. He asked me what I do back in Queens and I said I worked with juvenile offenders. I’ve been alternating between that and website designer. Sure enough, the guy next to me who I thought was a rent-a-cop was indeed a correctional officer. I remembered seeing a state penitentiary on the map a few exits back. He just nodded and was on his way. Guess he didn’t want to talk shop.



Did you know that they announce hunter arrests on the radio here? They do. First and last name and city of origin. So strange. Can you imagine if they listed all the offenses each day in NYC and outed you on the radio? Unreal. I know there are police blotters in the Post but it’s just a sampling, right? Not a full list. Anyway, they also have showers at gas stations. Neat, eh? I also love how there are drive-in liquor stores. You have an itch and you don’t even have to get outta the car. Oh, and can we all start saying “Holy Mackerel” again. I heart that phrase. I heard it today and it made me giggle.

While driving through the part of Wyoming where no one lives apparently, I wondered whether Geico had a wildlife clause. What if I hit a bear or buffalo? Would that be covered? There was even an ad for a program that teaches folks how to be careful around bears that creep up on them in their yard or near their children. I never want to live in a place where I have to bring my kids to a program like this. Don’t talk to strangers should be the extent of it. One guy commented in response to the program, “they live here too I guess.”



I started getting hungry again after Rawlins so I thought I’d stop at the next exit (Sinclair) but it smelled like sewage and all my windows were closed. Therefore, I figured any eating establishment would also smell like poo. I passed on Sinclair and waited until Laramie to eat. Tried what seemed to be the only Thai restaurant in the historic area and it was awful. I got the safe dish that no one can screw up, Pad Thai. They screwed it up. I ordered it with chicken and the poultry tasted like fish and the noodles were hard. Gross! Otherwise, cute downtown area. Just don’t go to Anong’s Thai Cuisine. Yucky.



Ran into some other graffiti photogs on my way to the motel. Building's going to be demolished soon so it's a good thing they're documenting it.



Have you ever heard of the Continental Divide? I hadn’t. But it’s this line that divides one side of this continent from the other. Thus, the inventive name. Apparently, I’ve been following it all day long and the signs indicate what elevation you are at. The highest point I noticed was 9500 feet and soon after, I psychosomatically started feeling altitude sickness. I’d like to officially place blame on all of my history/social studies teachers for never fully teaching us geography. It has nothing to do with my not studying. Not only have I never heard of this line on the map that splits the continent in two, but I keep having to look at my kid’s atlas that Brynn gave me to remind myself of my potential routes. How embarrassing is that? Hand me a map of Europe, however, and I’m good.

Hit 3000 miles yesterday. Nuts!

Trade, did anyone have money on Wyoming?

Arrived in Yellowstone at about 7:00 and went straight to the first campgrounds. I was going to finally tent it. But right as I drove into the registration area, I saw the sign that said no sleeping on the ground due to a lot of bear activity. Alrighty then, so where the heck was I going to sleep, in my car? Granted, I had thought of that before leaving NYC to save on cash but now it wasn’t sounding so appetizing. I walked in anyway and asked if they could help me find a place where I could in fact “sleep on the ground.” The kind gentleman behind the counter showed me Bridge Bay 4 miles down the road so I went there instead. But not until I got something in my belly. The last I had eaten something was the corn dog and let’s just say, that didn’t fill me up. I went and got a pulled pork sandwich with fries at the Yellowstone General Store and it ain’t no real general store. It’s more like a tourist trap extravaganza. Merchandise a plenty with this cute little lunch counter in the back. All the folks that work there are from various countries around the world. I guess they have some kind of exchange program. My waitress was from the UK. Rachel was her name and you could tell that she was so tired of answering folks questions about where she was from in England because they had visited England before. Woop-di-doo! I wasn’t at all tempted to buy anything because all that stuff always turns me off. And I read somewhere, probably in Lucky magazine, that women over 30 should never wear T-shirts with words on them. Maybe because it gives men an excuse to stare at your chest? Who knows.



At Bridge Bay, there was a bit of a line to register so I listened to the questions asked so I’d be prepared once it was my turn. The folks before me were from Denver and had a popup camper on their pickup and asked to be placed as far from others as possible. I think they were on their honeymoon because the man kept saying that his woman was costing him lots of money and she would respond, “well, you married me.” I stepped up to the window and the first thing out of my mouth was, “Please place me next to a lot of people. This is my first time camping solo at a real campsite.” Sorry Mom and Dad, but Point Sebago doesn’t count. The woman asked for my information and as I recited my Woodside address, I chuckled and said, “it sounds like I live in a place like this but it’s New York City, Queens to be exact. I do have some trees outside my windows but that’s the extent of nature in the area.” I also asked if I could be near the amphitheater since I overheard another person mention that there would be a park ranger presentation there at 9:00 and it was 8:15. I was soon to be the new resident of space E233 which was easy to remember since my grandmother lived on W233 in the Bronx.

She proceeded to go through the rules and asked if I wanted any firewood and/or kindling when she came to the safety regulations pertaining to campfires. I laughed since I couldn’t imagine pulling that off in the dark (which it was now) along with getting my tent situated. After all, what would I do, warm up the beef jerky that was in my purse still? Next was the wildlife discussion. I had already seen quite a few signs about being careful on the roads and then of course the bear warning at Fishing Bridge up the road but she told me that if a bison were to park himself next to my tent, to just ignore him. Now, who on God’s green Earth would seriously be able to ignore a 2000-pound monster is they were sitting beside their flimsy tent? But she wasn’t kidding. The morning after, I saw a bison right across the way from where my tent was. Since she now knew how green I was, she asked if I had a flashlight because I’d need one to walk to the amphitheater. Check. Always had one in my car for emergencies.

So I drove over to the site, not easy to find in the pitch black even with headlights. It was more than sufficient for me since I didn’t have much else than the tent. I opened up my self-erecting tent bag and sure enough, it just popped up and was done. I had noticed on the board next to the registration lady that they were expecting a storm so I put the additional rain guard on top of the tent and secured it in all the right places. But I didn’t bother with those bendy things. I didn’t have the patience to figure out where they went and it was already resembling a tent so whatevs, as Nicole would say. I threw my sleeping bag in there and took the the flashlight with me to the amphitheater. I had no clue where the path was to get over there but I took whatever looked traveled upon. It was a cute little spot and the ranger was about to start. The presentation was entitled, “Photographing Yellowstone.” It was a series of photos from around the park that he took and he told helpful stories of safety and prime spots to shoot the sights. It was a great introduction to see what I’d be seeing in the next couple of days and what not to miss. I walked back to the site and simply went to bed. No air mattress, just me in my bag on the ground. Slept very well until 3 a.m. when it started raining. I thought, ‘please let it stop,’ since I had nothing between me and the ground, like one of those tarp things. It stopped soon after thank goodness. I woke up at 6:30 because I started to hear others waking up. Went to the restroom and came back to disassemble the tent and get on the road to start seeing the park. That was the part that wasn’t so easy. I wish I had bought the self-disassemble AND self-erecting tent. There were directions on the inside of the bag that held the tent but this NYC girl was stumped. Luckily, there was a seasoned camper next to me, a teenager on vacation with her parents from Minnesota. She did it in 4 seconds flat. She even undid it and did it again so I could watch one more time. I think I have it? I told her I was from NYC so this wasn’t so second nature to me. I think I keep using that whole “I’m from New York City” line as my “get out of stupid jail for free" card.



Had breakfast at Lake Lodge’s cafeteria and headed off to see Hayden Valley and the Mud Volcano. The volcano and caldron were already teeming with people. (Mostly seniors and European couples since school had already been in session since last week Wednesday, there weren’t many kids in the park.) The mud pots were cool, bubbling over with sulphur-smellin’ steam coming out of them. One guy said to me, “Can you imagine what the people that discovered this place must have thought when they saw this? They probably thought they were in hell.” He was so right. It smelled awful and smoke was coming out of the ground all over the place. There was a trail that went up the hill that looped around to the parking lot again but it was about a 2/3 mile “hike” and some parts were steep. I figured I might as well do it so I could get myself acclimated to doing some exercise in case there were other sights that I would HAVE to walk a lot to get to. I went up the boardwalk (which is what the ranger said last night you should always stay on) and there were these two guys from Wisconsin who were coming down and they warned me that they had just seen a herd of bison crossing the boardwalk and had to wait it out. They said they had gone already but to be careful nonetheless. I walked up over the hump to see if the coast was clear and I saw the herd they spoke of going up into the mountain with a few stragglers that were following their same path. I was about 1000 feet away at this point. Once they were all out of sight, I continued on the boardwalk trail. Right before I reached the spot where the others had crossed, two bison surprised me from the left, so I literally backed up. I had just taken my camera out to take a photo of the landscape. Granted, I was probably 500 feet away when I saw them because I remember taking a photo at full zoom. But instead of following the same path as their friends, they literally got ON the boardwalk and started heading right toward me.

Now, I don’t have cable at home so I’m not a frequent Nature Channel viewer but I did know that with bears, you’re supposed to play dead. But Mr. Ranger last night didn’t say a thing about what to do if a bison is charging you ON the approved boardwalk passageway. I was following the rules. The damn signs everywhere said to always remain at least 25 feet away from a bison. Who the hell are they kidding? That’s like 5 short people lying down one after another. I was 500 feet away and I know what that looks like because I once asked a fireman how far that was since it always says to keep that far back behind a firetruck. Now as many of you reading this know, although I’m thin, I am severely out of shape, so running was a challenge. And from what this sign says …



… USELESS since they can run three times as fast as you. And in my case, probably 6x as fast as me. But I have no death wish so I ran like crazy down the boardwalk back to the people I had just been alongside. I really wasn’t sure if I was going to make it out of this situation alive (and I know I am an exaggerator at times but I am being completely serious). I mean, look at this photo of them coming at me.



I was only taking a photo from 500 feet at full zoom because I assumed they were going to go UP the mountain just like the others. It’s mating season after all. Didn’t they want to follow the girls? (I learned that last night at the presentation. August is mating season for bison). So luckily, once they got to the part where there were railings, they went down onto the pasture and barreled down the hill toward the parking lot. I finally stopped running and these elderly couples asked if I was okay but I was hyperventilating. Now, the last time and only other time I hyperventilated was when I hit a 10-point buck (that’s an old deer I think) on my way to my high school one evening to hook up with my mother at a PTA meeting. So there’s got to be a pattern here. I need to breath into a bag whenever large game are involved. One of the women that came to my rescue literally dumped her souvenirs on the boardwalk to give me the paper bag they came in. Soon enough, I was okay and had calmed down a bit. But I still cannot believe that these enormous animals were literally inches away from me and I wasn’t even sure if they would strike. I’m so sure my mother was worried about me going off with strange men in South Dakota. Who knew that I’d come close to meeting my demise in a national park considering all the third world countries I’ve travelled to alone. Or better yet, all my visits to jails and prisons. You’d think Rikers would be scarier than Yellowstone. I think I now know why those in middle America have guns. Yikes!



I got back in my car and headed to the next sight. Waterfalls. They were beautiful and so plentiful. The ranger last night had said that they were in full force in May and June once the snow starts melting so I wasn’t expecting a lot of water coming down but woah! Along the trail to get to the best vistas, I heard this woman say to her husband, “Oh look, there’s that poor girl who was almost gored by those bison.” And then down the hill a bit, another woman came up to me and said, “How are you doing? That was scary, right?” I nodded. “I guess you should be insulted though that they didn’t want you as their prey. Maybe too thin, not enough meat.” Then her husband chimed in, “Maybe they didn’t like white meat.” These retired folks have a lot of time on their hands to come up with these clever quips. One guy in their party asked where I was from and said, “Oh, so you’re just used to being chased by purse-snatchers, not wildlife.” So needless to say, I’m glad to be alive. I started in on this trail to another waterfall and when I stopped seeing folks around, I doubled back. No self-guided trails for me. I am definitely spooked by this experience and it wasn’t until I got cell phone service at 10 p.m. that I was able to call my mother and recount the whole ordeal and I wept like a baby. That was a good thing because I wrote all this soon after it happened and instantly went into humor mode but when I told the story to my mother, it all came back and I was seriously inches from being severely hurt or killed.

The rest of the day was spent going to the many sights in Yellowstone. One of the roads was closed for repairs, which brought on detours that added to getting around but the park was pretty much empty in comparison to the regular summer months. It was nice because there weren’t tons of people in your photos. Seeing everything is a lot of stopping and going along the roads. There are these pullouts (vista points) where folks stop to take photos and I did a lot of that, as you will see in my Flickr set. It’s a must when you are faced with such amazing views. At the same time, the roads can be pretty scary. Sometimes, there aren’t shoulders and you’re looking down at the abyss. And other times, the non-CDL-license folks who have rented from 1-800-RV4RENT are barreling around curves and have no clue what they are doing. I overheard one senior couple talking to another at one of the geysers about their RV. They never had any intention of buying a recreational vehicle before but when some friends of theirs did this trip and said they had a hard time finding places to stay with their dog, they figured this would be the best way to have the pup and have no hassles. Their 20-something daughter chimed in saying, “Yea, some life this dog has. He gets a $60,000 RV so he can come along on the family vacation and they wouldn’t even pay for my college.”



One strange observation I had today was that celebrities could totally have a laid back family vacation here. Wear stupid clothes with dumb sayings on them, a baseball cap, sunglasses and hiking boots and no one will recognize you. I saw this one woman at the Norris Geyser museum and I instantly thought she was famous because of her amazingly toned body and perfect tan and gorgeous boyfriend or husband. I heard them speaking to one another and it was a language I couldn’t quite place but from the looks of her, I figured it was Nordic. She was about 6 feet tall, blonder than blonde and perfect in every way. I asked her where they were from and she said Norway. Not knowing whether a joke would be understood, I said it anyway: “Do all women in Norway look like you, because if so, I’m never going there.” Yea, she didn’t get it. She just nodded and smiled and moved on. But this old guy behind me got it and smiled at me.



Although Janet suggested at least 3 days in Yellowstone, I have to admit, having taken “the senior tour” and staying off the trails (which obviously take a while), I hit everything in a day. Granted, I woke up at 6:30 and left Old Faithful, my second to last sight at 6:45 p.m. but it was a good run. It was almost like that feeling when you go to Six Flags and you’re trying to get all the rides in before your folks tell you it’s time to go home.



Another hilarious overheard statement was from this young girl with her boyfriend sitting and waiting for the every 92-minute blast. She said, “Isn’t it amazing that all the roads in the park are so close to all the things we want to see!” Yea, she’s going to college.

After seeing the Grand Prismatic Spring (http://www.astrosurf.org/luxorion/Documents/yellowstone-grand-prismatic-spring.jpg) from the ground, not like this aerial shot, I was back on the road, trying to leave Yellowstone and the trauma of my day. From the ground this amazing sight isn’t as colorful. I even tried to use that function on my camera that Matthea taught me once in Central Park where you can add color to pictures but it looked lame. Oh well.

Sure enough, I hit mountain road construction and it took me one hour to go 7 miles and I was starting to get tired. Stopped at the next lodging area in Grand Teton National Park, just south of Yellowstone and rented a tent cabin for the night. She warned of bears and I just ignored it because I really wanted to rest easy. Once I arrived at my site, I called my mother and went to bed.

I realized that traveling through Wyoming was going to take a while. I am now heading southeast toward Denver and plan on visiting friends there. Using Dubois, WY’s library. Another friendly, quiet place sans-wildlife. On my way here, I noticed all these ATV enthusiasts. They look like bandits with their bandanas wrapped around their faces. Scary. And there were also a bunch of cyclists along the winding, up and down mountain roads. They must be serious masochists to do that to themselves. There was even more construction getting here. The signs said, “Your Recovery Dollars at Work.” UGH! Construction in the mountains is no joke. Instead of just saying “slow down,” they have to escort you the whole way because it’s that treacherous. And based on the radio spots for the Idaho and Wyoming Meth Projects, teens talking about their addiction and quick demise, maybe an escort isn’t a bad idea. Why is meth a small town America problem and not seen as much in big cities?

Radio highlights: Didn’t have the radio on too much because I could usually only get country and as we all know, that’s not REALLY music. But I am now obsessed with Hope Waits. She’s the new Norah Jones from what the disc jockey said on KMTN. I really like her voice. Other than that, the only blast from the past I recall was “More than Words.”

Forgive me for the 200+ photos this time around. I didn’t have time to edit down. And stop your naggin’ Brynn. I know this isn’t the culinary photography trip you hoped for but if you were with me, you’d realize that following the Food Network guy’s Diners, Drive-ins and Dives is harder than it looks. He probably flies into each place and then rents those 50s convertibles. So I hope my roadside sandwiches and lodge cafeteria helpings have been enough for you. ☺

And for those of you that were stumped by the title of this post. My colleague Trade at WGEN started a pool on which state I would meet my demise, so I thought I’d send a little guilt his way.

Yellowstone is yonder...

After seeing the national monuments, I went back to my mountain lodge in the sky and relaxed watching some television and went to bed early. 4 a.m. ain’t regular for me either boys. (FYI, I was tame in my depiction of my night out with the guys because they’re reading this so I’ll tell y’all what really happened when I get back home – he he). Leaving Deadwood, I took a different loop around to head toward Sundance, Wyoming. Didn’t quite get to see Robert Redford and wasn’t at all cognizant from the freeway that there was even a town that celebs would trek to each winter for the film festival but Sundance seemed to be a big city so I stayed away. I ended up staying in Buffalo at this roadside motel with shoddy WiFi after having amazing flautas at Sol de Vallarta, a great Mexican restaurant in town. Bummer because I could hardly upload photos. Now, I’m in Cody, Wyoming at the library taking a break from driving since I’m almost at Yellowstone. Back in Deadwood, the guys said that the population of South Dakota practically doubles when the Sturgis Rally comes to town. I think that out here, that must be the case too because it doesn’t look like many folks live in the towns I’ve been passing through.



Got gas in Ten Sleep, WY and learned that it’s called that because the Sioux used the name towns based on how many nights of sleep it took them to get there from their home base. So neat! At that gas station, I ran into a few Golden Guys (cattle farmers) that were having their lunch together talking about selling property and having to subdivide if they went past selling 2 parcels of land. No idea what that’s about but it involved the government regulations and they weren’t too keen on the Feds interfering in their land dealings. It’s funny because back in Custer when I met Penny thru Milty, an elderly woman was getting coffee next to me and said she had just watched the entire Ted Kennedy service and Penny asked her, “You really liked him even though he was a Democrat?” She said, “of course, I grew up with them and now the legacy is finished.” I wondered whether she would just out and out not like me if she knew I was a Democrat. She already said that she never wanted to visit NYC because there were too many people. So we already didn’t have too much in common. But her hope for a next vacation was to go to Zion National Park and that sounded good to me. I know Cara would love for me to hate Republicans but I imagine I am meeting a bunch of them on this trip and they are good people, just have some different views and I’m starting to realize why.

There will always be differences when you live in a totally different environment. Like this morning… I woke up to check out at 10 a.m. and there were a bunch of young guys outside my room drinking beers and chatting. Now I would think it’s a bit early for that but who am I to judge. And for nature-surrounded folks, you’d think they’d use less Styrofoam but it’s everywhere. When you ask for food to go, it’s in a big Styrofoam tray and when you get coffee at a truck stop, Styrofoam cups. I have a thermos so I just fill that up each time. And there are runaway truck ramps here so if a truck loses its breaks on a steep incline, it can go up this gravel path and slow down to a stop hopefully. I also took notice of the lady who ran the motel I was at. Do these folks just watch TV all day long since they have to be around and near the counter all day, every day? That seems like the dullest existence personally but it may just be her cup of tea.

When I got off the road in Sundance to get a map from the Visitor Center, these two men in a van saw my plates and asked what park of New York I was from because they were from upstate. First New Yorkers I’ve met so far. From Elmira and were going hunting in Cody and beyond. Matter of fact, the passenger was drinking a beer in the van too. Whatevs. They suggested a few things for me and were very nice to invite me to their campsite for a beer later (as if I would know where that was). So wait a minute. They were going hunting and on the radio, I heard a public service announcement educating hunters visiting Cody on what a black bear versus a grizzly looks like. Now if these guys’ target is a bear, what the hell do they do with an 800-pound grizzly or black bear when it’s dead on the ground? They didn’t have a forklift on their 70s disco van. Do tell if you know. I hope they don’t just leave it there to be feasted on by Bambi and vultures. Ewww…



The countryside is so incredibly gorgeous out here that I keep stopping the car to take photos but I have to quit that or else I’ll never get anywhere. And then you take the photo and it just doesn’t express how amazing it is to see these sights and to be driving on lengths of road that are surrounded by unreal mountains and forests. Of course I’m listening to the radio the whole way and another thing I noticed about ads on the radio here is that the owners of the companies advertising often do the talking themselves rather than hiring some snazzy voiceover person. Maybe folks around here prefer hearing the guarantees from the guy himself but I keep laughing because they often have no personality on the air. They sound like a monotone Hank Hill reading everything without any enthusiasm whatsoever. Another thing I’ve heard on the radio is that the winter is going to be awful from the Rockies to the Appalachian Mountains according to the Farmer’s Almanac. I’ve seen a few of these pamphlets at antique stores and I don’t understand. Are farmers also meteorologists? Anyway, they say we’ll have to button up big time this coming winter. They even plugged Snuggies saying you should probably go out and get one. Those are the full body blanket things that everyone makes fun of, right? Oh, and I think I saw a real live vulture on the road before eating some carcass. Ewww… And, I think I want a big round red pickup truck some day. They are just neat. It has to be old though. Surprise, surprise, right?



Stopped for a corn dog and root beer at the A&W American Food drive-in and because I’m an idiot, I pulled into the wrong slot so I couldn’t press the button for a carhop. I learned that term because my lovely next door neighbor in Queens, Jennifer, used to be a carhop at an A&W back in Fairborn, Ohio. Wait til you see in my Flickr photos, the bathroom there. So odd.



Radio highlights: “Life in the Fast Lane,” “Sweet Home Alabama,” Barry Manilow, “All out of Love,” Fleetwood Mac, “Love is a Battlefield,” “Addicted to Love.”

The Nicest Guys Ever are from South Dakota

(written August 30, 2009)

Wall Drug is for kids folks. Unless you want to buy silly souvenirs, there’s not much need to stop in there. Ironically, the town made it quite easy for me to leave soon after I arrived because the entire town’s power went out. Got on the road and headed to Custer State Park where I was planning on tenting out in the wilderness that night among the buffalo and whatever other wildlife they could throw at me. I have a zero degree sleeping bag with me and a self-erecting tent so I should be fine. Took the exit for the park and realized that the blackout had reached this far too. All the traffic lights were out and no one could sell you gas because the pumps were all electronic now. I had enough to last me the ride through the park and more but since I had a few near missed on “E,” I was trying to be cautious. Got back on the road and realized I was going in the wrong direction because I paid too much attention to the gas station and didn’t see that the gas station was the turnoff for the park. Oh well. By the time I made it back to the gas station, their price light was on indicating power was back on so I got some gas and needed some caffeine.



As I was going inside to get coffee, a man saw my plates and said, “Far from home, eh?” His name was Milty Belt, a retired professor of psychology at a nearby college. He had a black pickup and was very interested to hear about my trip so he waited outside on the bench to chat as I got my drink. We talked for a while and he was awfully funny. Told me how much bales of hay cost ($600-800 for those big round ones), and got a kick out of my city girl ignorance of all things country. Penny, the woman who worked at the station came up to clean up a bit and was saying how she NEVER wanted to go to NYC, “too many people. The only thing I’d want to see is the Statue of Liberty anyway.” They seemed to know one another and I later found out that he lived up the road in Keystone. He asked if I was going to go riding and I assumed he meant horseback. He meant motorcycle riding. Right! I forgot that so many folks around here are bikers because Sturgis is just north of here. There are Harleys everywhere and there’s even a special hand gesture they do to one another when they pass on the road.



Milty asked if I’d be interested in a ride since he goes around the park at least twice a week to get the bike out and enjoy the scenery. He understood if I didn’t want to since I just met him but I assured him that this fact didn’t stop me from experiencing something fun and he seemed to be someone that folks around here knew. We were to meet at the park entrance in 30 minutes or less and on the way, I left a hilarious voicemail for my folks, giving them his name, the cross-streets of the gas station, that he knew Penny who worked there and added that if I didn’t call back in a few hours after the ride, assume the worst. Needless to say, I did. It was a blast. I have never been on a Harley before. He asked and I mentioned my Vespa ride through Manhattan, which was also with a guy I had just met at a gallery opening. But “Uncle Milty,” which was always his nickname, looked at me and said seriously, “that’s a scooter.”



We saw the Needle’s Eye, some buffalo resting along the road, drove through the town of Custer and he brought me back to my campsite where I’d tent that night. He thought I was crazy since it would get down into the 40s that night but I was intent on doing it. The area was situated right on a lake with swimming but it was already so cold. I didn’t even have socks on during the ride because I didn’t think I’d need socks in the summer! I had to borrow proper shoes and a sweatshirt from my “ain’t no junk in this trunk” collection. Thank goodness I hadn’t gotten rid of that stuff yet. The ride was chilly but being behind him cut down on the wind. I thanked him for a lovely ride on his Road King and he wished me safe travels in the future. He said I reminded him of a girl he used to date and she was crazy too. With those kind remarks, he went off into the mountains.

At this point, I was not about to set up tent just yet. I wanted to explore other parts of the park and get something to eat. I happened upon this lodge and a general store. Bought some jerky and cheese (hilarious) for emergencies, a bacon pop for Kobe and went for an early dinner at Blue Bell Lodge. Had the buffalo meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a glass of cabernet, the second drink of my trip so far. Two couples were just leaving the outdoor patio when I sat down so I pretty much had the place to myself. I used the time to take advantage of my weekend minutes and called Matthea to tell her about my ride. As we were wrapping up, three guys came out onto the patio and sat down with their drinks. I felt I might be too loud on the phone so I apologized. They were cool. Told Matthea I was going to go over there when I hung up to join them. Just felt like it. Sure enough, it was a good decision. They were very nice. All married with teenagers, all from eastern South Dakota. They were on a golf/hiking/gambling boys weekend and had just returned from the summit of Harney Peak, a 7,242 feet peak nearby and were doing the rounds at the lodges in the park.

They didn’t seem to believe that I was from New York because I didn’t have an accent and wasn’t swearing so I took out my ID and proved it. We chatted about my trip so far and what they all do for a living: sales, jewelry and telecommunications (Mike, Brian and Paul respectively). Mike was the basketball coach for their kids and that’s how they all met each other. Their kids have been friends for years. Sweet. So they were staying near Deadwood and were heading up there soon to go out to some restaurant and go to another casino. I didn’t know much about Deadwood. Hadn’t seen the HBO show and as with most of the places I had been, didn’t do much research. This was the town where Wild Bill Hickok was shot in the back of the head. He was a gunslinger in town. Deadwood was also a mining town and I got to see a mine from the road. It just kept going down.



The boys invited me to come with them and I accepted. I already trusted they were good men it sounded like an adventure. Brian drove with me and we followed Paul and Mike. I had already eaten but they had dinner at Midnight Star, a restaurant on Main Street, Deadwood, owned by Kevin Costner. He had filmed “Dances with Wolves” nearby and loved the area so he opened his own restaurant and plastered the walls with himself (costumes, photographs, memorabilia from each and every one of his movies). Very humble. I had chocolate cake for dessert and afterwards, we headed to Saloon No. 10, another famous spot. This was where Hickok was shot in the late 1800s. It had sawdust floors, smoke-filled air, blackjack tables, slot machines and young girls in corsets. It seemed to be a trend among the ladies but some of them were wearing them with strap bras, which was just tacky. If you’re gonna wear a corset, ya gotta have your breasts hanging out properly. C’mon ladies! Mike and I played the roulette machine and won $45 in less than 20 minutes. It was fun. Although it was his $5 that started us off, he split the winnings with me. What a generous guy. Paul, on the other hand, was playing blackjack and I don’t think he ended up in the black at the end of the night. But he did get to participate in some very interesting bachelorette festivities and I’m sure that made it memorable. Similar to Hogs & Heifers in NYC, this seemed to be the place to come for your hen party. There were girls all over the place handing out condom bead necklaces and brides-to-be asking for personal items, scavenger hunt style, that she could wear. You could also see penis straws in the drinks of many girls’ glasses strewn across the bar. My new friends were very good at meeting gals obviously. A few they met on the hiking trail snuck up on them at the restaurant that night and later on the street when we were all kicked out, offering us a cab ride home since they ordered a 16-passenger van. See, all the girls must have known that these were the good ones.



After a stroll down the road to another bar that had live music but few patrons, we met another young lady from Colorado who had enough energy to power Deadwood. We assumed she worked there since she recruited us to come in and enjoy the tunes but we think she just felt bad there were no people around and the band was still playing their hearts out. She strangely turned a night out drinking with friends into a lesson about homelessness and how the government could do better economically to house them for free than let them live on the streets due to the high costs of frequent ER visits by homeless individuals. Not sure what this girls major was back “home” but it must be either political science, social work or theatre because she was definitely a character with a lot of research under her belt.

We went back up to Saloon No. 10 to meet up with Brian’s friend Mike who was a realtor in Deadwood and had found his house for him 6 or so years ago. His wife, daughter and her boyfriend were also in attendance and they were a fun bunch! Be sure to check out the photo of Kim’s boyfriend because it was killing me to come up with the actor who he reminded me of. I said Noel Wyle but I think he’s more like this younger actor that was in all of those “American Pie”-type movies. After the saloon closed at 1:30, we all headed to their house for “breakfast.” Mike and Diane actually made a huge spread for a bunch of drunks who didn’t want the night to end. I had drive their Escalade there since these kind gentlemen were in no shape to drive at this point and were responsible enough to let the New Yorker who knew when to call it quits have the keys to gladly chauffeur them around.



Breakfast was fabulous and hanging out with this crew was a blast. We headed home to the house near Deer Mountain. The guys had already offered me a floor in their house to stay over since the park was an hour south and I sure as hell wasn’t interested in tenting any longer. I had a lovely room all to myself and we all crashed immediately. Woke up to see what an amazing property this was. Surrounded by tall Ponderosa Pines with wraparound decks, this lodge in the Black Hills (named by Sioux Indians due to the darkness of those Ponderosas) was the perfect place to chill out and write. And that’s what I am doing. Brian graciously offered the keys to me so I could stay as long as I wanted before I headed out farther west on the next leg of my trip. So cool.



After breakfast with the fellas, as they headed back east for Monday jobs, I chose to go see Crazy Horse and Mt. Rushmore in one fell swoop. It was a beautiful day, perfect for viewing mountaintop masterpieces. They were both incredible. I was worried that I wouldn’t be impressed, having seen so many images of them over the years, but hearing the history and how they were created (and are still being created), was very educational and a cool experience. I even got a piece of the rock blasted away from Crazy Horse for free outside of the sculptor’s studio and plan on giving it to my nephew who will hopefully some day take his family there and see the completed sculpture.



A few things I learned from being out with the guys: no dice games in South Dakota casinos (why, dunno), “motorboating,” “tramp stamp,” “2-bagger,” some guys are sensitive enough to buy the David Foster tribute album from PBS and South Dakotans love to “call bullshit.” Can’t explain here, look it up.

Golden Guys, Free Haircuts and Badlands

(written Aug. 28, 2009)



Lunch for farmers is 10:30 a.m. apparently. Jerry, who sat next to me had a huge slab of fried ham and hash browns and brought his own tomatoes in a Ziploc bag. You might be wondering if Jerry, with his checkered buttoned down and suspenders, chatted me up like all the only kind gentlemen I sit next to at the counter. Well, no he didn’t. And yes, I took offense. I got the Midwest nod but that was all. This all occurred at Betty’s Café in downtown Mitchell. I had my first meal of the day there at 11:15 and many of the towns’ farmers were already finishing up lunch as I ate my eggs over easy, hash browns drowned in butter and wheat toast. I highly recommend drowning your hash browns in butter. They probably singlehandedly put me in the grave a year earlier, but it was well worth it. Right as I was leaving, another Golden Guys crew was having lunch together. Where are the Golden Girls? Do the older women in these towns not like one another enough to meet up for lunch each day? Or are they too busy making up their homes to come out to the local coffee shoppe?



I just so happened to arrive in Mitchell in the middle of their corn festival so Main Street was lined with amusement rides and food vendors, mostly BBQ. I asked at Betty’s why it hadn’t started up yet and she looked at me for a second and said, “because the kids are still in school.” Duh! I wonder if she thought I wanted to jump on the tea cups ride as soon as they turned it on. The town itself was very cute if you could see it past all the cotton candy and prizes for squirting water quickly into the clown’s mouth. I took some of the side streets to get away from the excitement and saw this little old-fashioned barber shop. I walked in but no one was there. Then, all of a sudden, I heard “Can I help you sweetheart?” A nice gentleman that resembled a good looking Dom Deluise came out from the back room. The cool Hawaiian-type shirt may have helped the Dom look-alike come to mind. So I asked if he’d cut my hair straight across and how much that would be. I told him I usually went to barbers in the city since it was cheaper than going to a girl salon. I didn’t remember to use my regular come-on, “Do you do girls in here?” That always goes over well back home. He said we’d “figure something out.”

So I sat down in the cool red chair and he put that little white tissue paper thing around my neck as if I was going to get a shave and began chopping off the inches. He even recited the amount of months it would take to regrow. I never realized there was a calculation for that. 8 months apparently. Woah! Dave asked what I did back home and whether there were real George Castanza’s there. He also knew about Five Points so I mentioned that I used to work in the courts right next to that spot. Maybe he’s seen Gangs of New York or something because when I asked him if he had ever been, he said no. But he had a friend from here that had gone out there to do his music thing downtown, but ended up in computers. Since I already knew what he did for a living, he proceeded to tell me that George McGovern’s barber was cutting my hair. I think he sort of asked me if I knew who that was and honestly, I recognized the name but couldn’t for the life of me remember exactly who he was, but I nodded regardless. I knew he was a politician though. And now I was assuming he was from South Dakota. Sure enough, I was spot on. He apparently grew up in Mitchell and lived right down the road. Mr. Carter, my new barber, said you could even go knock on his door and he’d invite you in for a chat. Not sure I wanted to do that but good to know. So the cut was done and he did a fabulous job. I asked him what the damage was and he said it was on him. Unreal! Another gentleman giving me somethin’ for nuthin’. He said he enjoyed the conversation and he wouldn’t take anything. So sweet. I thanked him and plan on sending him a postcard from Mt. Rushmore.



Down the road was the Corn Palace and the way it was advertised, you’d think it was an amusement park of some sort. It’s cool to see but I do hope no one travels here to see just that. As luck would have it, I arrived on the day that Joan Jett and the Blackhearts was playing there and I couldn’t help but wonder when I saw the auditorium if they would sell out the seats. She’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I heart her but I still didn’t want to stick around until 7:00 and pay $35 for “I Love Rock & Roll” and a bunch of other songs I probably wouldn’t recognize. Sorry Joan. I did walk around and learn some history of the palace. It’s quite a structure. Made of corn husks and dried kernels. Very unique for sure! Walking back to my car, I ran into Joan’s tour bus driver. He was cleaning the bug carcasses off the windshield with a ladder. He said, “it’s like it’s raining bugs around here.” Considering I had to stop twice on the way to clean off my own, I agreed. And their guts get all sticky and make it real hard to clean. I feel bad for the Queens car wash guy that will have to deal with my vehicle when I return. Gross!



So I got back on the road and headed to the Badlands. On the way, I got mooned by these young boys in a pickup. I saw the ass all of a sudden but couldn’t believe that kids still did this sort of thing. After the pants came back on, they drove so fast, I never caught up to give him a thumbs up. Wasn’t enough of a quick draw to snap a shot of the full moon. Sorry. I stopped at a rest area to get some information and this kind woman gave me a ton of useful tips on seeing the Black Hills and all the cool monuments in 3-4 days. I have no clue whether it will take that long but I did tell here I wasn’t all that interested in anything museum-related or exercise-related. Hiking (which really means walking) was fine but no biking or any of those exertion-type things. So I got my map and was all set. The sunflowers along the route were cool and the highway signs advertising Wall, SD and other sights were hilarious! They know how to keep you entertained on such a long flat road. And I hit 2,000 miles on this stretch.

With one eye on the road and the other on the signs, I kept mistaking “Supper Club” for “Stripper Club.” I started to think this highly Christian part of the country had some skeletons in their closets. The fonts they use confused me at 75mph (don’t worry, on this interstate, the limit is 75 so it’s all good). I also saw a billboard for an auto show that had the original General Lee, the red “01” car from the Dukes of Hazzard. It all comes full circle because yesterday on Fresh Air, Quentin Tarantino was saying how he had studied under James Best, the guy who played Roscoe P. Coltrane. I’m still a little surprised that South Dakota never welcomed me on the way in. But they did notify me that I had just entered Mountain Time Zone so now I was 2 hours behind New York.



The Badlands I am not even going to write about because I am still in awe of what I just witnessed. I know I went to the Grand Canyon as a young child, about 6 or 7 years old I think, so I don’t remember my reaction to that. But this was just incredible. I felt like I was in a painting or someone was going to pull on the Sears Portrait Studio scene cord and it would vanish behind me. So just check out the photos and you’ll maybe see what I mean. While I was taking tons of photos, I had one of those “thank goodness for digital” moments. I had this flashback of what it must have been like when we had film cameras and I wanted to take lots of photos on a family vacation. My mother must have limited us. I don’t remember her doing that but I do remember her limiting our use of paper towels while “camping” in Maine. And flash bulbs and developing rolls of film are much more costly in comparison to a few Brawny’s. While in the Badlands, I did learn why those bales of hay are scattered all over the land. I thought they were separated so the horses could wander over once they were done with one and scratch open the plastic that wraps it up. But stupid city girl that I am, I learned from this nice couple in the Badlands that a baler machine goes around and collects the hay (which I guess is just floating around?) and makes those bales and leaves them wherever they are. And later, the farmer collects them for use with the animals. I also learned from a couple of women that I met at a rest area that I was “known” on the highway but other travelers. She said that they always talk to folks along the way and they kept hearing people say, “there’s someone from New York on these roads.” Hilarious!



Now I’m in Wall, SD, which was recommended to me as a quirky tourist attraction but a must-see. Since I just drove through that part of town, I now see what she meant. It’s like a replica of an old western town with the saloon and the drug store and other types of shops. I think some of it is authentic since it says it was made in 1931 but it seems so updated that it’s hard to see the old West with all the souvenirs and prairie women mannequins in the display windows. I’ll stroll through tomorrow and take some pics. Right now, I’m sitting and having an angus steak with texas toast and waffle fries at the Red Rock Restaurant and will slumber at the Motel Welsh where owner, Wes, has given me a good deal because he stuck me in Room 2 which is pretty much a bed and a shower stall/toilet. On my way out of the office, he said, “thanks for the business.” You don’t hear many folks say that anymore…

Joke of the day: Q: What do you call cheese that isn’t yours? A: Nacho cheese.

No radio highlights today because I mostly listened to NPR. Learned that the lyrics writer for “Do Run Run” and “Going to the Chapel” died.

Minnesota Local Charm and South Dakota Burgers

Dropped in on the Coffee Hag in downtown Mankato. Cute little independent coffee shop run by women and enjoyed by many. When I took this photo of her, she asked what it was for and I simply said, "me. I'm on vacation and take photos of everywhere I go." She responded, "ahh, it's like paparazzi." This place reminded me of my favorite coffee place on Avenue A and 3rd Street in the East Village. Salvation Army couches, board games, wall of photos and good chai. I know Laura Ingalls shopped here but besides a cute little antique shop, there wasn’t all that much going on here. I almost went to lunch at this Italian restaurant that seemed to be the only place in town with cars out front but it ended up being dead inside, no characters to sit next to at the bar. So I got on the road instead. Had a large breakfast for free so my tummy was satisfied.



Next stop along Route 14 was New Ulm, Minnesota. Hadn’t heard of it before but when I got there and saw the “Downtown” arrow sign, I figured I’d take a look since Mankato wasn’t all that. I was immediately pleased because it was a little German town and it smelled of cheese. Apparently, there was a processing plant down by the river and it made me hungry but it was 2:45 and the restaurants were no longer serving lunch. Total bummer. This town reminded me a bit of Bariloche in Argentina, another German settlement.

New Ulm was a big industry town (AMPI was headquartered here, milk producer) but it also had the historic downtown Main Street that I liked. Parked the car and started taking photos of the German restaurants and such when all of a sudden, this man said, “Oh, did you recognize him, that’s why you were smiling?” Confused, I said, “No, I’m not from here,” unaware that he knew full well I wasn’t from there and this was his way of getting me to stop and talk. Three men sat outside this small independent bookstore sipping coffee at the one café table with chairs on the sidewalk. It was the picture of Golden Girls but with men and no cheesecake. They were adorable. I asked their names and offered mine. Bill and Al were both retired attorneys, mostly estates, trusts and such, but some divorces now and again. I never did get what Carol had done before retirement. Bill was the talker. Anything that came out of your mouth, he had a story that popped into his head that was sometimes only loosely related to the topic at hand. And if Carol was telling me about the sights to see in New Ulm (pronounced by Bill as “gnome”), and Bill interrupted him, he simply said, “wait til I finish!” with a ‘sheesh’ look on his face. You could tell these guys have known each other for a long time and later I learned that they meet up each day at the same time (around 2:00) to have coffee and chat. So sweet.



They asked me what I was doing in New Ulm, if I had family here, where I was staying. I explained that I had no clue about their little town and that I simply stopped because I always stopped when I thought there might be a fun little town to discover. They asked what I did back home and I talked about my work in the courts since they were lawyers. Al kept calling me the “most interesting person” they’ve ever met, and I said, “I’ll be sure to tell my friends back home that.” Each person that walked by while I was talking to them learned all about me. That I was from New York City and that I was traveling across country by myself with no itinerary. It was a hoot! Carol went and got me the tourist guide for New Ulm and even went and highlighted the pages that he felt were ‘must-sees.’ When I shared that I had never driven more than 6 hours straight before in my life, he gave me a tip to stay alert on the road, “Just drink a little Mountain Dew and you’ll perk right back up.” I smiled and thanked him.

They kept referring to Hermann the German as if I knew who that was so finally I asked. He was this famous German warrior that fought against the Romans in the year 9 A.D. and since many of the folks that settled here were from Germany, they built an enormous statue in town in his honor. It’s the 3rd largest copper statue in the U.S. And since this year was the 2000 year anniversary, it was understandable that they were all up in arms about it. They all had a lot of pride in New Ulm. It was nice.



We then got on the topic of New York and how quick paced it is in comparison to Minnesota. I agreed of course but explained that you can make it feel like a small town if you make the effort. I told them that when I lived in Manhattan, I used to walk crosstown to work and waved to my dry cleaner each morning, got coffee at the same diner on the corner and knew all the doorman on my route there. They liked that story. Just then, a couple walked by and of course they had to learn where I was from. Bill popped up to give them the news and the man said, “I used to be your paperboy” because he realized Bill didn’t recognize him. Bill asked what he was up to and the man said he was retired as well but he was only 49. He then proceeded to say that he sold his company recently for 65 million dollars. I was instantly turned off. How strange to just blurt that out in the second sentence you share with a group of people you only know as acquaintances. Later, when he left, Al relayed the conversation to me as if I hadn’t heard the figure and I said I thought that was uncouth. He agreed. Al said that he invented some cure for something using pig’s ears or some other part of the animal. So the man and his wife went off to play a round of golf or something. Whatevs. Bill wanted to escort me to Hermann with the fellas in tow, but I declined. I wanted to duck into this antique shop before it closed and wasn’t sure I was going to stick around. Al and Carol kept telling him to stop putting me on the spot. I loved their banter. I think I’m going to see if they’ll be my pen pal, along with Mike and Rod. I miss having pen pals and I’m not sure any of these fellas use the internet much. What’ll be interesting is to see if I can write to them with simply this address:

Bill, Al (retired attys) and Carol
Nicest guys in New Ulm
Drink coffee together at 2:00-ish each day
on and around N. Minnesota Street
New Ulm, MN 56073-1729

Next stop along the way was Brookings, South Dakota where I learned that there are only about 700,000 people living in this large state. “There are more cattle than people here I bet,” said a retired military man that I met at Nick’s Hamburger Shop on Main. He and his wife were enjoying a lovely evening outside listening to live music at his high school mate’s burger joint. Dick Fergen, who had also done quite a bit of traveling in his day, was the current owner of this 1929 burger establishment and it was obviously a favorite to many. It seemed like anyone who was out that night was here. I went inside to order and they asked, “how many?” The slogan is “Buy ‘em by the bag” because they are small little guys, similar in size to White Castle but cannot compare to taste and quality for sure. What was interesting is that they ask you what you want as “fixins” when you order. They put the pickles, ketchup and such on the burger themselves. When I got my bag, I realized that they weren’t even wrapped inside, just piled on top of one another with toothpicks holding them together. So cute.



So I ate with the biker couple (ex-military and former nurse) and got loads of helpful hints on seeing the Black Hills and Badlands out west. I really do step in it. These folks had traveled through 48 states on their bikes and were just the nicest people ever! She had been a nurse at Columbia Presbyterian for 3 plus years and liked NYC very much. I didn’t catch their names but the gentleman even went out to his bike to show me the map that I’ll get when I go to Wall Drug. They had just been in that area because Sturgis has this annual biker festival and they go each year. He said it is the largest one of its kind and a sight to see. There might even be some remnant bikers from the festival in those towns when I get there. FUN! So they wished me happy travels and I was back on the road to get to Mitchell where my former Newsweek colleague Alexandra told me there is a Corn Palace that is a must see.

Radio highlights: “Bad to the Bone,” Guns & Roses, Sheryl Crow, Eminem, Percy Sledge and my favorite, Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts.”


Amazing sunset on a lake toward Mitchell, SD