Telling it like it is (with a bit of creative licence)...

SNAP... the truth behind my trip to hospital

alionadventure — Wed, 22 Sep 2010 13:47:00 GMT

So, this story really starts with the fried pie, but I havent got around to writing that one yet so we'll have to come back to it.

Anyway, even without further detail, you can imagine that I was feeling a bit guilty re the fried pie. I thought maybe I should do some exercise...

So I got the resistance band out and started working. You know this is not going to end well.

Anyway, stretchy stretchy band rolls off end of my foot and smacks me in the eye.

Yes, I'm afraid it's true.

So I squeal and swear and cry for several minutes... then finally eye stops watering enough to look in mirror...

not good.

Massive blood splotch on eyeball and pupil fixed and dilated... minor panic ensues. I can see though, even if a bit blurry, so I'm thinking it can't be that bad.

Incorrect.

In the morning, it looks worse... decide if i drive past a hospital, I'll go and get them to look at it.

So I rock into emergency - have to drop my accent since they are about to find out I'm Australian. Once I am speaking properly, they can no longer understand me.

It takes many many minutes to explain the problem... and to convince them I have not been attacked, despite swollen face, wearing sunglasses inside and sniffling a lot. Tough sell.

Anyway, once all that is sorted out, they admit me and stick me in a room for couple hours. About 7 people come in to ask me things - STRONGLY suspect was all a scam to hear me talk. They are obsessed with the accent (which is why I hide it).

The actual treatment takes 5 minutes once they have all had a little play with the foreigner - they gave me special eye drops and voila! am cured.

Lesson: no exercise on holiday. Let the fried pie deposit where it may...

Rolling through the great plains...

alionadventure — Wed, 15 Sep 2010 15:03:00 GMT

Driving through Kansas - let's just say they don't call it America's breadbasket for nothing! Fields of wheat and wheat and wheat and wheat and barley and wheat and wheat and wheat and oats and wheat and wheat. In fact, so much wheat that eventually I started taking photos of anything that wasn't wheat. Like cows (in wheat fields) and barley (next to wheat fields). So you can imagine my joy when I starting seeing the signs for... THE 8,000 LB PRAIRIE DOG! WOOT!

The deal was cinched when they also started advertising a live 5-legged steer - who am I to refuse a miracle of nature!?

In retrospect, I possibly should have been wise to the fact that the signs were hand-painted, indicating a potentially less than reputable institution. When I pulled into the carpark, there were several other cars stopped to witness the miracle. I now suspect those cars were planted.

I walked into a fairly scary shed, and was greeted by two middle aged ladies of middling dentition. Good start. I asked after the restrooms and was directed to the facility in the photo. Um, hello?! Please explain the situation to me where this would be appropriate?! Next, I step outside and am assaulted by a stench. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to imagine it from the photos.

Anyway, I think the photos speak for themselves. I can only hope the ASPCA are on their way. I did give some thought to asking for a refund, but then I got an uncomfortable premonition about a gun under the counter. But I am still feeling guilty about contributing to the horror. AND the prairie dog was fake AND I never got see the 5 legged steer. Total outrage.

Finally, I arrived at my destination for the evening - Dodge City. Oh yes, it is an actual place. Slightly less exciting than it used to be, although they have done a nice job of re-building replicas of what it looked like in the 19th century... Sometimes I don't take photos of places because I'm having too much fun... this is not one of those times. I'll sum it for you - I went to the honky-tonk, there was no live music and instead of Wyatt Earp, I met the local bank manager - George. One Bud Light later, I was moving on...

Onward and eastward (through the mid-West)

alionadventure — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 15:23:00 GMT

Well, darlings, I'd have to say I am a little bit devastated by the lack of comments. 33 of you slackers have read the last one and not one of you has posted anything. How will my fragile ego survive??

Anyways, moving on...

So I woke up in Salt Lake, keen for adventure. Then I remembered where I was. Boom-ching. No, seriously, I was thinking about staying another day to check it out properly, but then events unfolded which meant I had to leave the state in a bit of a hurry...

I wandered up the Utah Capitol building. Those Utah-ians sure make purdy stuff. The photos are already up. You'll see in the collection a photo of me, with my hand on the handle of the door to the Governor's office. I won't leave you in suspense - yes, of course I turned it. And I wandered in and met a lovely lady called Abigail, who told me that the Governor was in a meeting. Which he was, until about 25 seconds later... Who was more surprised? Tough call. Although I was in his office, so I'm guessing his shock at a 6ft blonde Australian in cutoffs was greater than my shock at a bunch of silver Utah-ians in business suits. He recovered well though - I bet he's a great politician.

So, where to next? Why, Denver, of course! But to get to Denver, gotta go through Wyoming. Pretty mountains, wide open ranges, horsies, cows, cowboys - you get the picture (if not, I have helpfully posted these in the photos section). Note the weird grandstands in the fields - I mean how interesting are cows?! Happily I had made several intuitive leaps before actually uttering those words to a local - my guess was wind breaks... close. Think of it like the mystery object on Collectors. Winning entry gets a prize. So, anyway, a night in Laramie, then...

Hello Denver! What have you got for me? What's that? You have the Grizzly Rose, named best honky-tonk in the world by the Country Music Association?! Speak on, dear friend...

Well, Wednesday is probably not the best night to assess a dance hall's credentials but hell, if its the best honky-tonk in the world surely it should be pumping any night of the week?! True. Wednesday night, 10 piece band and dance-floor full of people from age 21 to 85 getting jiggy wth it country-style - nice! Met a couple of ladies from Texas - Sherry, Wanda and - wait for it - Sissy. Turns out Sissy is a demon on the dancefloor and what do you know, 15 minutes later I'm doing the Texas Two-Step. And yes, it is different to the normal Two-Step. Faster. And no, they can't help themselves with the one-up-man-ship.

Next stop, Dodge City...

Photos: Cowtown...

alionadventure — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 14:41:00 GMT

Wyoming to Denver

Photos: LA, Vegas, SLC

alionadventure — Tue, 7 Sep 2010 18:31:00 GMT

I think that covers it.

LA, Vegas and Salt Lake

alionadventure — Tue, 7 Sep 2010 14:17:00 GMT

Yep, that's right, dudes. I have been in the States 3 days and already passed through 4 of them (technically the I15 and I went through Arizona for about 45 minutes, so I'm claiming it - lighten up, ok? We'll never get anywhere if you expect me to tell the un-embellished truth.)

Nothing too exciting to report from LA - although I did see at least 6 women who were significantly taller than me... I suspect some sort of copy-cat genetics regime similar to the Chinese effort in the '96 Olympics. You heard it here first. Also, I ate mashed potato made from powder. It tasted kind of like fake coconut. Lesson learned.

Picked up my car, where they tried to up-sell me from the mid-size SUV (yes, yes, I feel very bad about the environment, but figure my green guilt will disappear the first time I have to sleep in the back of it). Surely I would prefer a standard SUV? I resisted, only to find that the only SUVs in the lot were even worse - the "full-size SUVs". Approximately the size of a stretch hummer. Not kidding. The Dibben clan may recall the beast we travelled in a couple of years ago - all 10 of us. His younger (but larger) brother.

As it is, they found me a standard SUV - a Dodge McMassive* (* not its real name). I have named him "McDodgy" (photos to follow). McDodgy has a mere 8 seats, and the turning circle of a semi-trailer. Bless him. He also has an EXTREMELY quiet engine and a disturbing ability to wander up to 90 miles an hour if I don't keep a close eye on him. Tricky. Yes, I know about cruise control, but Dad always told me to keep up with the traffic, right Dad?

Anyway, McDodgy and I made it to Vegas in one piece after only one attempt to turn onto the wrong side of the road. On a freeway. Everyone survived. And not to worry, I gave McDodgy a very stern talking-to. And that b!tch in the GPS, who seems to be up to her old tricks. I have to say that being in Vegas by yourself is a bit odd. I'm used to having my little playmates (that's you, meine schwestern) so, for history's sake, I toddled off to Flamingo. Although I think it is called something else now. Did I mention there were 2 marriage chapels across the road from my hotel? That will be important later. And the drive-through divorce place. Also important.

As you know, I don't gamble. For those who don't know, you may also be unaware that I am super-competitive. As a result I cannot gamble because I simply can't stand to not be involved in any given hand, or to throw my cards in. Ever. You can see where this would create a problem. Instead, I people-watch and generally make friends. Anyway, as it turns out, a single woman at the Flamingo attracts a lot of attention. Especially with the accent. After a few unfortunate encounters, I ended up chatting to some young men from Texas. Although I still suspect they may have been pulling my leg - who ever heard of a Texan in regular shoes with no hat?!?! Outrage. Anyway, as with all good stories, this one ends with many shots of tequila (at the Toby Keith "I love this bar" bar - not kidding, Liv) and quite a bit of karaoke (which I believe was actually duelling pianos before the descent into open mike - and no, I didn't start it. I don't think.). Aha, you say, but what about the wedding chapel - rest easy Chanter, I told you I would give you 48 hours to get here if I decided to marry a random in Vegas... nah - just keeping you hooked. Anyway, didn't you read this paragraph - they didn't have HATS!

So tonight I've arrived in Salt Lake City. I got here about 9pm and went looking for food. And looking. And looking. The hostel is in suburbia and I started to get a little concerned that I hadn't seen a single person by the time I arrived downtown (walking). Frankly, it was a bit eerie. Plus, I was seriously hungry. As I walked down Main Street, completely alone, I began to feel as though I was on the set of some sort of apocalyptic film (photos to follow). For goodness sake, why wasn't there even a street sweeper or some idiot cat-calling out of a moving vehicle?! But there wasn't. Eventually, I found the only place open in the whole city. A bar. Isn't it funny how these things work out? Something to ponder. But actually, the other 3 people out on the town in SLC were kind of the desperate to drink variety, so I've called it early to come back here and write to you lovely folk.

I'm still hungry.

Well, this is very long considering I didn't have much to tell. Sorry, dudes. Hopefully more excitement to report from SLC tomorrow, otherwise on to Denver. Yee-haw!

Love Al x