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...
