So we broke down in Miami OK, and Gerry rode to Joplin, MO to get a rental van that would allow us to continue the trip, while Colin and I had a breakfast at the Great Western Restaurant and wondered, what now? I heard about the Indian run casino some two miles up the road and thought, well, maybe a meander to check it out was in order. The alternative was watching mindless TV in the hotel room... not a good option for someone who hates mindless TV. We strode down the sidewalk-less stretch of Route 10, him with his hand pulled suitcase, me with my old Canon rebel camera around my neck, and tried to ignore the signs of a troubled despair of a town that seemed abandoned and foreclosed in the heat of the midmorning sun. We saw the white of the old white grainaries ahead of us as we walked, and joked that we were going to Oz to see the wizard. What would I ask for and what would he? was left unspoken between us. We got to the Stables Casino, but not before seeing the macabre sight of a doll's head lying amongst the litter of the sleepy town. I had to get a shot of the carnage, as Colin urged me to use caution, as pick-up trucks were flying down the road and would have hit me as I shot my picture of horror. We went in the casino and pumped change into the glitzy slot machines until it bored us to tears; we got a free lunch as there was a mix-up in the kitchen that only had to serve lunch to the two of us, and then we started the lonely trek away from Oz. We laughed and joked and in our imagination we were an unlikely pair of drifters in a Steven King novel... what if we walked and did not find our motel, what if this was our destiny to drift and try to laugh in the desolate landscape where decapitated doll heads smiled in the debris of the roadside?... I had to contain my macabre imagination as Colin doesn't really know me beyond the love of a mom that he will not refer to as "step." We meandered back to the hotel to meet Gerry and our new ride, and I suddenly felt old as the young passerby females, in Neons and Mustangs, looked in awe at Colin's movie star looks, and then disgustedly glanced at me, an older woman companion who had no business in the company of this young and hopeful man. Silently we walked side by side as weary travelers, knowing we made the most of this unforeseen delay.
So we broke down in Miami OK, and Gerry rode to Joplin, MO to get a rental van that would allow us to continue the trip, while Colin and I had a breakfast at the Great Western Restaurant and wondered, what now? I heard about the Indian run casino some two miles up the road and thought, well, maybe a meander to check it out was in order. The alternative was watching mindless TV in the hotel room... not a good option for someone who hates mindless TV. We strode down the sidewalk-less stretch of Route 10, him with his hand pulled suitcase, me with my old Canon rebel camera around my neck, and tried to ignore the signs of a troubled despair of a town that seemed abandoned and foreclosed in the heat of the midmorning sun. We saw the white of the old white grainaries ahead of us as we walked, and joked that we were going to Oz to see the wizard. What would I ask for and what would he? was left unspoken between us. We got to the Stables Casino, but not before seeing the macabre sight of a doll's head lying amongst the litter of the sleepy town. I had to get a shot of the carnage, as Colin urged me to use caution, as pick-up trucks were flying down the road and would have hit me as I shot my picture of horror. We went in the casino and pumped change into the glitzy slot machines until it bored us to tears; we got a free lunch as there was a mix-up in the kitchen that only had to serve lunch to the two of us, and then we started the lonely trek away from Oz. We laughed and joked and in our imagination we were an unlikely pair of drifters in a Steven King novel... what if we walked and did not find our motel, what if this was our destiny to drift and try to laugh in the desolate landscape where decapitated doll heads smiled in the debris of the roadside?... I had to contain my macabre imagination as Colin doesn't really know me beyond the love of a mom that he will not refer to as "step." We meandered back to the hotel to meet Gerry and our new ride, and I suddenly felt old as the young passerby females, in Neons and Mustangs, looked in awe at Colin's movie star looks, and then disgustedly glanced at me, an older woman companion who had no business in the company of this young and hopeful man. Silently we walked side by side as weary travelers, knowing we made the most of this unforeseen delay.
