RE: welp, i'm going to kansas
welp, i don't think i'm in kansas anymore! in fact i'm not. i'm sitting around my one bedroom streetside apartment in northside drinking budweiser. the water's going to be turned off tomorrow, but that's ok cuz i'll be painting my girlfriend's bedroom in mt. auburn. better shower today!
i was sad to leave kansas. i'm not surprised i had fun in kansas. a fella can find fun anywhere, provided you have the right attitude. i started off kansas by procuring a sixer of copperhead pale ale by free state per bjunk's recommend it was delicious as he said it would be. it was good to see my brother and his wife. they live in junction city in a house just as i imagined, tucked away in a neat cul-de-sac. they hadn't a basement, which i found odd considering it's kansas.
while my brother toiled away for the army man, his wife, my father and i went fishing the next day. we procured licenses at a wal-mart. my father suggested i buy the five day license and i moaned, "we're going to fish everyday?" he said "yup."
our first fishing expedition was a small pond behind the wal-mart. my father will throw down anywhere. i cast my line into tree branches. dad was upset. this would be a recurring theme.
man made milford lake was next and i caught a fish. almost immediately too. a 3-4 lb large mouth bass. first fish i've ever caught even though i've never fished before. my father shouted instructions which i tried to follow but somehow didn't. in the end he succeeded in getting the fish and unhooking it. i reluctantly placed my thumb and ring finger upon the fish's lower lip and posed for pictures all the while thinking "hurry up and let's throw this thing back in the water!"
we only fished for two days and my father never caught one as big as i. i also didn't catch anything else, save for tree limbs and the occasional weeds. all in all i broke three strings, lost two fake worms, and took about a year off of my father's life. the last lake we fished at was designated for handicapped people and children under sixteen. my father didn't give a sh!t. we walked along the bank and i saw one kid with his line caught in a tree. a little further, the same befell his brother. their dad helped untangle the mess. i saw my fate as i was about the age of the dad. i threw a couple lines, didn't catch anything. and then i caught a tree. my dad came over to assist me in getting my line down. somehow i caught a bigger fish than him. i asked him, "was that beginner's luck?" he laughed.
well aggieville in manhatten is fun. my brother's wife and i headed out for some drinks. we wanted a game of pool and didn't find it at auntie mae's parlor. but we found a real swell bar. you're ushered downstairs as that is where the bar is. the ceiling couldn't have been higher than seven feet, in fact it was probably a few inches shorter. it was surprisingly not claustrophobic. i ordered me a tall grass ipa which went down fantastic. it was an improv comedy night the bowl haircutted, drunken student next to me said. he had been to many bars in troubled eastern europe and throughout africa, he told me, but this was his favorite bar. i nodded my head. the first comedic act had a man retelling a nickleback song, lisa informed me. good thing i didn't laugh as much as would have, as she's a big nickleback fan. next i had tall grass' stout, which was like nectar to a bee. so sweet, so sweet. it invited you to savor. it invited you to contemplate how f*cking good it is. ethereal.
we found our game of pool at some roadhouse off the interstate. lisa hesitated as the place looked like a roadhouse. i insisted we enter. the place was empty. it was maybe midnight, a little after probably. the woman at the bar differed to a man when i entertained the possibility of drinks. i asked the man if was possible to get a drink at this hour, he said "whaddya want." splendid. so i had a pabst and we played a game of free pool. turns out my brother's wife spent her formative years in pool halls. this is why i don't play for money.
so friday, our last day. lisa and i had been drinking till four in the morning after a game of spades with pops. i was very hungover. i woke up at 11 something. it was two in the afternoon before we started off for my quest, my mythical prairie hike. before we engaged any activity that required us being in an automobile, my father would have to stop at a gas station to fuel up his body with fountain drinks of diet cola and ho ho's. he was adamant i fuel up also but i just don't buy those kinds of things. he took pity on my meager ways and threw a snickers bar onto my lap as we departed.
my hangover vanished once along the curvy roads leading to the konza prairie. i secretly hoped that there was a spigot i could draw water from near the trailhead, as i foolishly had no water. there was none. my posse abandoned me at a fork not too far from the aforementioned trailhead and left me with four marlboro lights. i was thankful they did as this trail was meant for me alone. and it was magnificent. the sky was blue, the land was open, and everything was mine for the taking. rolling hills, green tall grass, not a soul in sight, not a destination in sight. just me and the prairie. time stood still for a moment. i couldn't hear civilization. i could have been in the 1800's. i could have been a vagabond headed west with nothing more than my haversack. a phone call reminded me that i was of this era. good thing too as we had reservations at the brookville hotel. i made haste to reunite with my family.
long story short. my father can't eat bbq cuz of some condition that annoys me. i thought of a souvenir t shirt. it's called kansas hippies someone is hugging a tree, their feet are off the ground cuz a tornado is close by. tornadoes were always on my pops' mind. he would have the weather station on whenever we were in the house. i remarked to anyone that could hear me, while adjusting my britches, "seems like we came to kansas to watch the weather channel."
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