Adventures out west!
So here's a . I bolded the super-important parts, for those of you who are not so interested in the glory of North Platte.
Last Friday I set off for my second weekend in North Platte to enjoy the NEBRASKALand Days Festivities, or rather, the company of my family at these festivities, who could make even the most unappealing thing (pork chop breakfast in a parking lot at 7:30 AM anyone?) sound swell. The drive sucked. I was sitting in a puddle of my own sweat before I was even outside Lincoln city limits. Around York, the sky suddenly turned black and I drove into some wall cloud, eager for my pork chop. Thankfully the weather cooled off quickly, not so thankfully, I had to drive about 40 MPH with absolutely no visibility for most of the way. I also almost died by nearly hitting an all-too-invisible jack-knifed semi. I would have hit it, had I not been going with the flow of the 20 MPH traffic. I didn't see it until the tail lights ahead of me went off onto the shoulder. Thinking there must be a reason, I followed and then glimpsed some semi cab in my passenger window. AcK! But enough of that, I know you all want some North Platte!
My randomized iPod set the tone for the trip by choosing Honky Tonk Woman on the exit ramp. It's all in the intro, you know.
I went out to dinner at a truck stop with my dad and saw a 500 lb. man sitting on two chairs at once. People were staring hard at me. Him? Not so much.
Then Nikki and I went to the Wild West Rodeo Pavilion Dance featuring Chance, North Platte's premier shitty western cover band. Now with horns! Nikki and I were charged a dollar more than everyone else who wanted to get in and it was totally worth it. At any given time, there was a 4 ft. circle around us that the cowboys would not enter. There was some *cough*lesbians!*cough**cough* and a few "Holy whatever cowboys say, what the hell was that?!?". I tried to ask some cowboys to teach me this wacky dance they were doing, but no one wanted to. That is until a real life cowgirl took me by the hand and watched me mangle some dance moves on the floor. She laughed, and then her (female) friend and husband hit on me. Then, she drunkenly invited me to a party at her horse ranch and gave me her phone number. Nikki and I also caught some toads and played with them because they were far more sociable than the cowboys. And some guy yelled that we were ugly from a truck. It was so much fun!
The pork breakfast the next morning was rained out, so I got to sleep in and my gramma brought the pork chops to me! I ate part of mine, then gave the rest to my dad and stole everyone's biscuits. Generally, the biscuits are the best part, though most people tend to disagree.
Next up was some shopping with my aunt, who bought some nice skirts at my recommendation.
PARADE TIME!
That had some trucks and a few fat people on horses, as well as numerous lumpy cheerleaders. Most people booed the Wal-Mart float and that made me happy. The fact that it was one of about six actual floats in a two hour parade made me sad, though. The best part of the parade was getting hit on by a 40-year-old stinky wino. He asked if I wanted to get a room. I told him that I was 14, and he told me that he had money. Then he shuffled awkwardly forward only to step on my bag and fall on his ass, taking out a hunk of police line with him and dumping his beer all over his own face. HAR! Then my drug-dealing, child-abusing, evangelical christian cousin Brad walked by in too-short shorts, a basketball jersey and a straw cowboy hat. My aunt and I waved but he just glared and stormed off. I don't get what the deal was with that. Regardless, Jill yelled, "Fuck you, you asshole!" and acted indignant. Frankly, I was just happy I didn't have to talk to the guy.
So then bratwurst at Aunt Jill's with her boyfriend Norm followed by a trip to the Platte Bar.
The Platte Bar is a magical place. Within 3 minutes of entering I saw not 1 but 3 very pregnant women in spangly slut tank tops with no backs. As I said to my aunt, "Oh yeah, I wanna jab your fetal alcohol syndrome baby in the head tonight!" I also saw most of my high school classmates. I shouldn't have been making fun of everyone so much I guess (but if you could have seen some of these camel toes walking around...), because in true legendary NEBRASKALand Days style a pitcher of beer was flung over the fence and right on to me. It was probably some cosmic force. Whether it was just some drunk with a bug in his beer or karma, my shoes, like the rest of me, were quite mushy. They went into a bag, only to be opened earlier today after having sat in the sun for some time. I nearly died. They are on the fire escape now, drenched in lysol in hopes of saving them.
That's about all I've got. But still, you have to admit, that's the stuff legends are made of.
Last Friday I set off for my second weekend in North Platte to enjoy the NEBRASKALand Days Festivities, or rather, the company of my family at these festivities, who could make even the most unappealing thing (pork chop breakfast in a parking lot at 7:30 AM anyone?) sound swell. The drive sucked. I was sitting in a puddle of my own sweat before I was even outside Lincoln city limits. Around York, the sky suddenly turned black and I drove into some wall cloud, eager for my pork chop. Thankfully the weather cooled off quickly, not so thankfully, I had to drive about 40 MPH with absolutely no visibility for most of the way. I also almost died by nearly hitting an all-too-invisible jack-knifed semi. I would have hit it, had I not been going with the flow of the 20 MPH traffic. I didn't see it until the tail lights ahead of me went off onto the shoulder. Thinking there must be a reason, I followed and then glimpsed some semi cab in my passenger window. AcK! But enough of that, I know you all want some North Platte!
My randomized iPod set the tone for the trip by choosing Honky Tonk Woman on the exit ramp. It's all in the intro, you know.
I went out to dinner at a truck stop with my dad and saw a 500 lb. man sitting on two chairs at once. People were staring hard at me. Him? Not so much.
Then Nikki and I went to the Wild West Rodeo Pavilion Dance featuring Chance, North Platte's premier shitty western cover band. Now with horns! Nikki and I were charged a dollar more than everyone else who wanted to get in and it was totally worth it. At any given time, there was a 4 ft. circle around us that the cowboys would not enter. There was some *cough*lesbians!*cough**cough* and a few "Holy whatever cowboys say, what the hell was that?!?". I tried to ask some cowboys to teach me this wacky dance they were doing, but no one wanted to. That is until a real life cowgirl took me by the hand and watched me mangle some dance moves on the floor. She laughed, and then her (female) friend and husband hit on me. Then, she drunkenly invited me to a party at her horse ranch and gave me her phone number. Nikki and I also caught some toads and played with them because they were far more sociable than the cowboys. And some guy yelled that we were ugly from a truck. It was so much fun!
The pork breakfast the next morning was rained out, so I got to sleep in and my gramma brought the pork chops to me! I ate part of mine, then gave the rest to my dad and stole everyone's biscuits. Generally, the biscuits are the best part, though most people tend to disagree.
Next up was some shopping with my aunt, who bought some nice skirts at my recommendation.
PARADE TIME!
That had some trucks and a few fat people on horses, as well as numerous lumpy cheerleaders. Most people booed the Wal-Mart float and that made me happy. The fact that it was one of about six actual floats in a two hour parade made me sad, though. The best part of the parade was getting hit on by a 40-year-old stinky wino. He asked if I wanted to get a room. I told him that I was 14, and he told me that he had money. Then he shuffled awkwardly forward only to step on my bag and fall on his ass, taking out a hunk of police line with him and dumping his beer all over his own face. HAR! Then my drug-dealing, child-abusing, evangelical christian cousin Brad walked by in too-short shorts, a basketball jersey and a straw cowboy hat. My aunt and I waved but he just glared and stormed off. I don't get what the deal was with that. Regardless, Jill yelled, "Fuck you, you asshole!" and acted indignant. Frankly, I was just happy I didn't have to talk to the guy.
So then bratwurst at Aunt Jill's with her boyfriend Norm followed by a trip to the Platte Bar.
The Platte Bar is a magical place. Within 3 minutes of entering I saw not 1 but 3 very pregnant women in spangly slut tank tops with no backs. As I said to my aunt, "Oh yeah, I wanna jab your fetal alcohol syndrome baby in the head tonight!" I also saw most of my high school classmates. I shouldn't have been making fun of everyone so much I guess (but if you could have seen some of these camel toes walking around...), because in true legendary NEBRASKALand Days style a pitcher of beer was flung over the fence and right on to me. It was probably some cosmic force. Whether it was just some drunk with a bug in his beer or karma, my shoes, like the rest of me, were quite mushy. They went into a bag, only to be opened earlier today after having sat in the sun for some time. I nearly died. They are on the fire escape now, drenched in lysol in hopes of saving them.
That's about all I've got. But still, you have to admit, that's the stuff legends are made of.