DAY 4: Saturday, 5 August

We drive into Missouri on Saturday morning. I am not disappointed--it is the total sleaze-fest that I remember. Whereas Oklahoma and Texas highways are lined with billboards promoting abstinence and condemning abortion, Missouri is splattered with giant roadside advertisements for adult 'bookstores'. Here is a sampling: (Note: I did not cheat on this--these are billboards for three separate stores.)






Of course, Missouri isn't all smut. Lest I give the impression that this state is completely tasteless, I've included some pictures promoting other fine Missouri business establishments.




That evening, we stop in St. Louis as planned, having never been to see the gateway to the Midwest. We are far more impressed with the arch than we'd anticipated. It is shiny and awesome and a free blues concert is being held in the park, right on the river.

We wander around and eat bratwurst and crab rangoon from the vendors parked along the park's walkway. After about an hour, we head back to the car, right as a Park Ranger squad car is leaving the concert area. A man is cuffed in the backseat and I hear a faint plop as the cruiser's wheels drop of the curb on its way out of the park. Upon further inspection I find an evidence bag full of the detainee's personal belongings: a cell phone, a handkerchief, two dollars, etc. As there is no sign of illegal substances in the baggie I conclude that he was probably detained for drunkeness and wouldn't mind the return of his personal possessions. I imagine it would suck to be arrested by a bunch of action-hungry Park Rangers in the middle of my good time, only to have them lose all of my shit. So, on our way out of the parking garage I run up to another squad car and hand the driver the bag. He doesn't seem surprised or grateful, but just radios his partner, who is now huffing up the exit ramp, scanning the darkness for the poor bastard's things. I feel exceptionally proud of my good deed--helping out a bumbling backwater policeman right after being ticketed by his brother in arms. Upon further consideration, I wonder if the presence of a cash wad and/or drugs in the bag would have changed my course of action. How much cash and what kind of drugs are we talking about here? What if it were over a grand? And just a few ounces of marijuana? I would totally cut and run, and consider true justice served.

We continue on to Illinois and stop in Terre Haute, Indiana that night at a Best Western. As luck would have it, there is some kind of convention in town here as well, and hotel rooms are in short supply. The enormous balding woman at the front desk offers me a queen-sized suite, the only room left. I pause to weigh the exorbitant price, our chances of finding another room in town, and our level of exhaustion. Just then, an entire family comes stomping into the lobby, led by an angry mother toting a load of pillows and suitcases: "The room you gave us has someone else in it. The door is chained and we can't get in." I book the suite.