we anxiously look forward to the wall drug secrets revealed. hours go by and every once in a while, there’s a wall drug sign. I kind of felt like we’re driving toward the mystery spot.
during a totally amazing sunset, after we met and christened jack the fly, we pulled off the highway for a pee stop at a scenic overlook. it's nothing like the grand canyon - more like a sidewalk overlooking a 20 foot hilly drop to a big prairie. its diminutive size didn’t stop me from peeing off that scenic overlooking sidewalk. it wasn’t the grandiose experience for which I was hoping. if I ever make it to the grand canyon or niagara falls, perhaps I’ll pee over the edge and feel grandiose.
when I was done peeing, the girls decide now is the time when we dance. we bust out our boymaenad depeche mode action, blast the car stereo, and dance like it’s 1999.
about this time, apollo is making his way toward the end of his daily fiery journey and the sky was not all violet. it was a really pretty orngy color though. faster than a gunslinger could sling guns or a politician could sling mud, I whip out my trusty recorder of life’s greatest moments and spend a couple seconds thinking about how best to capture this brilliant scene I’m seein before me. I don’t know if I’ve extolled the virtue of the fill flash anytime recently. but it kicks ass. use it. so I’m snapping away, feeling almost awed by the images I'm capturing. wanting to find a spot near home where I could make these kinds of pictures. I have one in mind and I think I’ve even taken similarish pictures there. somehow it’s different when it’s dancing girls. mayhap they’re what make the world go round, and not money, after all.
when we're done with the impromptu dance rehearsal/photo-shoot, we kept on moving on. neither of the girls took the opportunity to pee from the scenic overlook. on we drove for another long time, accumulating lots of bugs on the windshield. The sky turned from apollo fiery orange to black as pitch. around 9pm, we saw the important wall drug sign. wall drug 25 miles and open until 10pm. up until that time, we’d been concerned that wall drug was going to close without revealing its secrets. on we pressed, our hope renewed by this fortuitous news. I mean, the wall drug was now less than a marathon away.
we pulled in to the town of wall, sd and immediately saw signs for free parking for the wall drug. actually, the first thing we saw was a big dinosaur. at first, I thought we were at the place that peewee herman stopped and watched the sun come up with simone while sitting in the big dinosaur and being chased by the jealous boyfriend who reminds me of bluto.
but no. different kind of dinosaur. We followed the free parking signs and eventually made our way to the world famous wall drug. I'm not going to tell you any more. you should go there yourself to see just how cool it is. the signs alone are worth the free price of admission. not to give away too much, but I did see this huckter. and when I was leaving, I came across this piece of americana. wall drug gets a thumbs up. go there. though not going to wall drug isn’t as fucking it up as not going to burning man, you should really go to both. if you have to choose, burn the man.
dj109 started telling us about this amazing experience she had with the wild bill & calamity jane cemetery atop a mountain in deadwood city, sd. cassandra and I would have wanted to see the cool cemetery anyway even without 109’s ringing endorsement. I mean, a cemetery in “deadwood city”? we also realized that it was kind of getting late in the night
we weren’t all that close to the cemetery yet. our concern mounted for the dead peoples’ availability. on our way to sturgis, which is right next to deadwood city, we stopped to get gas. we cleaned bugs off the windshield, picked up some drinks and flirted with their condiments:
we passed by sturgis and on to deadwood city. we drove around town looking for the cemetery. dj109 had some vague leftwardly recollection and guidance. we wandered a bit and eventually discovered a clue. we were in hot pursuit of the dead people. no way were they going to escape our clutches. when I say no way, I mean no way. we were planning on the place being closed and us having to scale walls or in some other fashion break in to the cemetery. there's a purity point for you. I mean, who do you know that's broken in to a cemetery? after midnight? (they do)
when we arrive at the cemetery, the cemetery pleasantly surprises us and informs us that while it's not exactly open, it's not exactly closed either. in a somewhat disappointing turn of events, no breaking in was required. in fact, we saw a sign that said as long as we each left a dollar donation, we were, in fact, allowed to visit. and in we went, lickety split.
we walked around. we slipped in the mud. we slid in the mud. we took quite a bit of cemetery home on our shoes. I took a picture of us with a randomly selected 19th century old westish grave. we later noticed that in that grave was buried a guy named faust. how cool is that? I kind of have photographic evidence which answers the question who is buried in faust's tomb? does anybody think that cemetery gate has the same kind of ring to it as cellar door?
I doubt this is an official purity test question. in fact, I’m pretty sure it’s not. but it really ought to be. while wandering the muddy cemetery, I developed an urgent pressure building upon the inner walls of my bladder. in the middle of a freakin graveyard. in the middle of the freakin mud. in the middle of freakin south dakota. in the middle of the freakin night. there’s lots of dark outside, lots of tombstones, lots of trees, lots of mud and lots of need to pee. so I stood upon the grave of some old west guy, unbuttoned my pants and let loose. now, I didn’t pee on the guy or on the grave or anything totally blasphemous. I just peed on the mud. but I was standing on some dead guy’s grave when I did it. as I peed, I just kept thinking push the little daisies and make them come up.
we moved on and finished off south dakota that night. we pulled into gillette, wy. we hit a super 8 and were told they’re sold out. we hit a motel 6 but the light which tom bodett has kept on for us was a “no vacancy” bit of neon. we asked the motel 6 proprietor wassup. she said there’s a rodeo in town and every hotel room anywhere near here is going to be booked.
all booked? uhhhhh – this is wyoming, right? we used our big city charms to sweet talk the manager into giving us the last room in the joint. it was like 2 am and she had no reservation about giving away the as yet unclaimed reservation. we heartily accepted it and forsook the next weary traveler. hey... all's fair in love and at the motel 6
PS - I'm totally a month behind.