Road Trip, Day 2

I woke up early and headed out for Kansas City. On the way, I listened to a compilation of songs by The Cardigans that Nathan made for me. I must say, I enjoyed them immensely and highly recommend their work to you all. After two hours, I saw Kansas City looming on the horizon.

I decided that I wanted to spend some time in Kansas, so I drove through to the other side of the state line. I saw the Kansas City National Guard Armory. Mistakenly, I thought that my father had done his National Guard training in Kansas, so I snapped a few pictures of the Armory and savored my newfound connection to his past. I was somewhat disappointed to learn later that he had spent his time in Oklahoma. Oh well.

After my misguided photography trip, I went to a nearby grocery store to buy a Thank-You card for my hosts in South Dakota. There, I realized that Kansas City has a very large Hispanic population. There was a gigantic tortilla machine, buckets of dried shrimp (apparently a common Mexican ingredient), shelves full of spices and dried peppers, and a large case of Mexican pastries, a few of which I bought. They were good, but not particularly impressive.

After milling about a bit in the store, I left with my pastries and card. From there, I drove around Kansas City a bit. I liked it better than St. Louis. Where St. Louis is a typical large city with a few famous sites, Kansas City feels like a real metropolitan center. The architecture was varied and unique, showing a lot of Hispanic influence as well as some attempts at old European emulation in the chic districts. There are sculptures and murals throughout the city, as well as well-maintained parks. A number of museums and universities dot the cityscape, and even the roads themselves are winding and unusual without being frustratingly twisted. I took a short walk in a peaceful little park, then head out for some good Kansas City Barbeque.

Pastor Tamerius, my host from the previous evening, had recommended that I try a local place called Fiarella’s Jack Stack BBQ. The Fiarella family started it some time before 1950, on a date that I can’t quite remember. Their legacy is well worth experiencing. I had been told that the Kansas City specialty is a cut of barbeque called Burnt Ends. They are the meat cut from the end of the rib, served with a little sauce. They have a rich smoky flavor, very much like chopped barbeque meet, but far more moist. For my lunch, I ordered a combination plate of these as well as an order of barbequed lamb ribs. Yes, it sounded odd to me as well, but I’m always up for odd food. I was not disappointed.

The burnt ends were tasty, but they were essentially just another but of barbeque. The lamb ribs, however, were unlike anything I have ever had. They were incredibly moist, and simply touching the bone was enough to dislodge the meat. Their flavor was distinctly barbequed, but with a unique character that was both buttery and salty. I will not rest until I have had lamb ribs once again in my life.

Also a pleasant surprise was the Southwestern barbeque sauce. If a normal, molasses-filled barbeque sauce were to fall in love with a genuine, chunky, onion-and-pepper-laden salsa, and the child of their union were raised by a bottle of ketchup, this Southwestern sauce would be the result. It was delightful, and altogether unusual, which I consider a great virtue.

After lunch, I drove north to Sioux City. On the way, I detoured briefly into Nebraska. There, I found a peculiar house.

Obviously, this place is deserted and has been for some time. Just as obviously, it is horribly haunted by the spirits of some vengeful Nebraskan farmers. I was sure of this the moment I laid eyes on the place. Thus, I set out immediately to find some evidence of malicious spirits. It was not long before I happened upon the beast who must surely lead the ghosts of the farmhouse. His eyes burned with cold fire, and the darkness of his shaggy coat can only reflect an evil disposition to wreak havoc on the countryside. He looked up at me with baleful eyes, and I knew that I must leave before I was beset by his wicked minions.

Look on and tremble with fear, oh mortal.

Driving through the countryside of Nebraska and Iowa, I was delighted by the cultivated beauty of the farms. The fields were far more sprawling than they had been in Illinois or Missouri, and the land was flat enough that one could see for miles from any low rise in the road. A storm came on, and the brooding clouds and occasional lightning flashes only served to enhance the impression of endless strength and splendor on the open plains. It was truly majestic.

When I arrived in Sioux City, I found that the kind people of the city had erected a sign in my honor.

They seem to be intent on assuring everyone that I am eating well out on my own. After passing through Sioux City, I continued to marvel at the grandeur of the fields stretching out to every horizon. As I entered South Dakota, the horizons receded until it seemed that I was looking at the ends of the earth in each direction, across thousands of acres of open land. I loved it. I wish that I could have captured it on film, but every picture I took seemed to confine the world I meant to preserve until it lost its power. I can only say that the land was beautiful, and that it is a kind of beauty that you must gaze at with your own eye to understand.

After another long day of driving, I arrived at Lennox, South Dakota. I got to the town just as the sun was setting. Unfortunately, my directions failed me, and I quickly learned that the extensive majesty of the plains turns to an immense openness at night that can be quite disconcerting when one is lost. I called my hosts, and after another half hour of searching, I made it to their farm. After a chocolate cupcake and a glass of milk from the generous farmer and his wife, I collapsed into bed in the house that his grandfather had built over a hundred years ago.