A Tour of the Plains...With Apologies to Washington Irving

Happy to report that the Cosmic City Blog is back up and running after a short vacation (of sorts).  It is unfortunate though that I restart the daily posts (except weekends…hey, you think it’s easy punching out an average of 800-1,000 words a day?) in the midst of an unfathomable mystery and depraved crime. 

What’s that?  You say you have no idea to what I am referring?  Read on brothers and sisters…read on.

Pssst…don’t look now, but someone stole Oklahoma. 

Yes!  It’s true!  How do I know this?  I have proof, that’s how.  AND, it’s probably my fault someone stole Oklahoma.  Now those of you who are dedicated readers (at last count, all two of you – thank you, thank you very much) know that I am sometimes…well, okay most times…given to flights of paranoiac fantasy, but this time it’s real I’m tellin’ you.  Someone stole Oklahoma.  Allow me explain…

I recently sent the wife back to the east coast to fetch the last of our vehicles and drive it back here to the compound.  I thought it would be a nice respite for her, though I had to wean her off the bottle of Jack D’s and the hand rolled cigs.  She had never driven the route from D.C. to NWOK by herself and was a bit apprehensive about doing it, but I told her not worry since her Garmin GPS would guide her straight through. 

I have to say that I always like driving that trip using what I call the Northern Route.  Virginia through West Virginia (how is it that they’re in the Big XII?) through Kentucky (lots of distilleries along the way to stop, tour, and sample) clip the southern ends of Indiana and Illinois and then southwest across Missouri (don’t forget to stop at Meramec Caverns) toward Tulsa (just keep driving) and a virtual straight line into Woodward (cultural center of the universe).  Sounds easy enough, huh?  Oh sure, it is…unless Oklahoma has been stolen (I’m getting there…patience please).

One of the reasons I like the northern route is Grayville, IL.  There isn’t much left there of what used to be a thriving farm community.  There’s a couple of motels near the interstate.  Grayville is exactly half the distance from D.C. to Woodward, so it’s a convenient stop.  I always stay at the Fairbridge Inn.  The place is clean and inexpensive and they have a cool bar there called the Paradise Bar.  The head bartender is an old biker looking guy named Pedro.  Pedro isn’t his real name, his real name (and I swear I’m not making this up) is Tom Collins…get it, a bartender named Tom Collins?  If you ask Pedro why they call him Pedro he’ll tell you.  It seems that in a 10th grade Spanish class the instructor insisted that everyone assume the Spanish form of their first name.  For a guy named Tom Collins that would be Tomas.  Unfortunately, there was already a Tomas in the class.  The teacher told Tom C that he was now Pedro.  If you ever stop into Grayville on your way to D.C. and see Pedro, be sure to ask him about the third time he was hit by lightning. 

But, I digress.

So the wife pulls into Grayville on the first night of her drive.  The next morning I get a phone call from her saying that the Garmin won’t accept any address in Woodward, OK.  Not only that, but it doesn’t recognize anything in Oklahoma.  I thought that was odd.  I told her it was likely a glitch in the satellite comms or something.  I told her all she had to do was head to St. Louis and catch I-44 toward Springfield, etc.  Told her to try the Garmin the next time she stopped for gas.  I was certain whatever the issue was it would correct itself. 

I hear nothing all day long.  Finally, as evening was settling in, I texted the wife and asked where she was.  I’m thinking she must surely be just the other side of Enid.  My phone rings…it’s the wife.  She tells me she isn’t sure where she is.  I asked her which interstate she’s on.  She says she isn’t sure, but she sees a sign pointing the way to an interstate that will take her to Iowa.  Iowa?!  Obviously, she’s a bit off course. 

After a while, she figures out that she’s just coming to the outskirts of Kansas City.  In my own helpful way, I ask, “What the hell are you doing all the way up there?  How is it that you could miss an entire state?”  I would repeat her answer, but this is a family-oriented blog. 

She stopped at a gas station.  While sitting there I told her to put in Wichita as a destination.  She did that.  I told her to try putting in Enid, OK…nope, doesn’t recognize Enid…doesn’t recognize Oklahoma.  Below the Kansas border, it’s just a black empty space. 

Anyway, she managed to find her way to Wichita and down into Oklahoma without driving off the edge of the earth.  Once she was back, I checked the Garmin myself…Oklahoma is a big black blob.  I started thinking about that and that’s when the paranoia set in.  Maybe it’s because I’m always trying to send my faithful readers to Kansas…it’s cheaper there you know.  Maybe the Garmin Company, which as it turns out IS BASED IN KANSAS, is trying to stem the flow of Oklahomans crossing the border in search of high-point beer and cheaper burials.  As if there isn’t enough to worry about…now it’s those darned Kansans.

So…if you own a Garmin GPS here’s what I want you to do.  Put in a location somewhere in the middle of Kansas, say Great Bend.  When it comes up, zoom out so you get the entire state on your GPS screen and then with a Sharpie marker black-out Kansas.  Huh, we’ll show them!

P.S., our best advice…stay the hell out of Kansas…it’s a big empty black blob by now.