Wagons East, Over the Exact Same Path

Leaving behind the worthless cul-de-sac that was (and is) Rapid City, we crossed the entire state of South Dakota, again, trying to get back on the path that we'd abandoned to make a special trip for some reason.

I listened to music, loudly, and screamed all the lyrics I knew. When we reached our stop, I slept in all my clothes and was out for a long, long time.

Things seemed better in the morning. I was ready to face the world again, and it didn't look quite so gloomy anymore.


Sioux Falls is home to Scooter's Coffee, which proudly boasts "The World's Worst Coffee and Tea," at least according to Don, Marlin, Wayne, and Maria. I can't verify it, myself, as I sat in the car listening to music that particular day. Scooter's Coffee was bad-mouthed for days, and has a chance of slowly growing into an urban legend.

Most mornings, we stop at Starbucks; irregardless of what I say or whether I come in or not, Marlin buys me a Strawberry Frappuchino. He's a nice guy, that Marlin. As best as I can tell, it's really just a shake -- except it's for breakfast, has caffeine, and costs more. I can't see myself going out of my way to get one, but if Marlin's going to keep handing them to me, I'm willing to count it as one of the perks of the job; besides showing how concerned Marlin is that I'm not left out of the morning coffee run. That feels kinda nice, too.