Actually, it's "Driving 2 Cats Straight Through the Middle of Nowhere in the Center of the United States". Since I'm new, and you all know nothing about me (sans headshot, resume, and chemistry); I thought I'd give a low down on my drive back to big ol' Texas from the ghettos of Detroit. Now, to enhance this story, you must imagine the constant wail of 2 cats in your head. If you aren't up to repeating noise in your craniums, go download the howl somewhere and replay it until you drive obnoxiously fast and want to ram your car into everything you see.
Now that the mood is set: The route we chose took us through the heart of Detroit, where crumbling buildings (or better known as artsy noveau "urban decay") gave us no warm wishes, no promises of missing us. Therefore, I will not miss that freezing bitter wind and steaming sewer covers in the winter. I will not miss the legless, African-American bum asking me for a dollar and then replying "Thanks, Honkey" or "Fuck you, Honkey" based on my response. I not will miss the construction, pot-hole riddled streets, or the Midwest way of not being nice to a single person unless they're UAW and can get you a job at Ford.
We decided to NOT drive through Michigan to Chicago, although that is one of my favorite cities, mainly because I HATE Gary, Indiana. Sorry, John Cougar, but Indiana, just like Ohio, should be blown off the face of the earth. But that's another story.
Day 2 got us to the gorgeous rolling Ozark Mountains. Well, they would be beautiful if the huge billboards that were posted everywhere didn't block the view. My personal favorite sign: a 6-ish year old blonde girl in patent black leather shoes and frilly dress smiling sweetly next to the big bold black letters: PORN HURTS CHILDREN. Yes, yes it does. And some pedophile is parked on I-55 staring at that billboard while.... the 7-story white cross was a nice touch, too. I digress.
Oklahoma, much like Indiana, is flat and boring (unless you're driving a U-Haul and it's tornado season.) We stopped for lunch at a greasy spoon, where Wanda, a maroon-red head with-- yes, I'm not exagerrating-- frosted green eyeshadow and torpedos that got in the way of everything. But the truckers love her. She was likable: when I ordered my chili with extra onions she looked at my husband and said "You gotta ride with her?" To which he laughed, until I threatened to leave him there with her. She liked that. He has teeth.
Then we got to Texas. Home. People smile. The sun shines. Roadkill abounds. And the sky is the biggest, most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And you people all drive like old ladies. If you could take the engines out of your cars and pedal with your feet it would still be too fast.
So, if you're driving through Austin or San Antonio, and a car with Michigan plates is riding up your tailpipe-- just push play on that pre-recorded caterwauling and understand why I'm driving so fast. And thanks for welcoming me home.
