Forever Paisley

Sunday morning Angie and I said our goodbyes and took our hangovers to the road.  With them we would remain for 671 long miles to Branson, MO.  It took us four hours, a five-dollar foot long and a ginger kombucha, but by the time we reached Springfield, IL we were starting to feel human again.

Just outside of St. Louis I glanced in my rear-view mirror to catch a glimpse of my sister who was driving behind me. With a quick look I confirmed, 1) she was awake and 2) she still had my dog.  All good, until I also saw 3) flashing lights. It appeared that Angie was getting pulled over.

I took the next exit, posted up at a Pilot Travel Center and waited.  Ten minutes later she arrived, giggling. Apparently she had been pulled over, not for speeding, not for swerving, but for suspected drug trafficking. Luckily the only herbs she had in the vehicle were non-hallucinogenic. Back on track.

When we arrived in Branson, the Smirnoff family spoiled us. They put us up in our own condo, fed us delicious, vegan-friendly meals and even gifted us free show tickets. For someone who is used to sleeping in divey hotels, or even in the car while traversing across the country, this was a treat.  I warned Angie not to get used to it.

On Monday, Ang and I parted ways.  She darted to Kansas City to see Florence and the Machine. I stayed in Branson to soak it all in.  From MO to AK, I enjoyed the Ozarks, explored the caves and shared a few domestic brews with the locals.  All in all, my first trip to Branson was a success.  Next up, Kansas.  Destination, unknown.

Day 20,212.  Kansas. Hmm.

Cherrettie