After driving across Oklahoma (I can cross it off my list, leaving only South Carolina and Hawaii to still visit) I craved both decent chocolate and coffee. There was no Trader Joe’s along the way. Then we arrived in the quiet, distinguished capitol of the boring state of Missouri, Jefferson City.
Much more so than zillions of churches along the way. Grace Point Assembly of God, Fine Point Church, The True Believer, Faith For All, Cavalry Evangelical Church, Baptist churches galore. It got so that a United Methodist or Lutheran place of worship seemed normal, even friendly. The hold these churches have on people in this unfamiliar part of the country is scary. At the Rib Crib in Enid, Oklahoma, a couple held hands and prayed before munching on their pulled pork.
But oh how I suffered not having a good cup of coffee or dark chocolate between Albuquerque and the Walgreen’s in Republic, Missouri. And the last time anyone mentioned liking my purple hair was in Reserve, Arizona, at a feed and seed shop that also carried “bling” flip-flops. There’s something wrong with that.
There’s also something wrong when Walgreen’s saves me with a chili dark chocolate bar. But as Dan pointed out, I’m in the minority driving across the Oklahoma plains and the Ozark plateau in Missouri, with my purple hair, my dependence on Trader Joe’s, my disdain for public display of prayer.
Yet I was pleasantly surprised by the wonderful bike paths of Tulsa, the gentle green hills of eastern Oklahoma, and the stately architecture of Jefferson City.