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#10 — To Champaign Posted March 20, 2001, 3:39 AM Wow. Coincidentally, this is the tenth and last part of the epic. Too odd. I didn't even plan it. I promise. Midnight hours, the home of Eric's parents, St. Joe, Mo I awaken seeing isobars on the ceiling around curtains tightly packed I close my eyes then look again they are gone the winds of change 10:00, Pulling out We leave the parental ranch quickly and smoothly, like a Movie Western cowboy sneaking out into the night. Eric says we need to get the heck out of Missouri and on into Illinois cuz he's a wanted man in Missouri. I facilitate his dream vision as best I can. On the ride out of town, even Eric sees the bird house looking thing on the last road sign pointing to Rt. 36, on the road that travels past the Missouri Western College of CJ in St. Joe. As we pull out, Eric reminisces on his younger days in Ole St. Joe. He spent time on horseback, rounding up stray cats. It was quite a task. Tabbies, Hairless, Siamese, to name a few, all wandering around, traipsing off after any rodent they saw. And Eric and friend needed to round 'em all up and shuttle them off to the stockyards. He even bragged that he wrote about the events for a contest in the local newspaper and won Honorable Mention. He carries the trophy with him in his luggage, everywhere he goes. 10:30, Cameron After a grueling 30-minute drive through the treacherous Western Missouri Badlands, we are in need of a poet's break. We stop, and there is a great streaming forth of poesy. Coffee and diet dr pepper can be so very inspirational. As we leave the McDonald's Poesy Place, having built a new lego structure at the lego table, we drive around past the Pony Express Area Tourist Information Center, housed in an old caboose. Intriguing given that the railroad pretty much put an end to the need for the Pony Express. Eric pulls the van back out onto the highway. Across the street, I notice a man dragging a thin, white cross. I assume that it's an Easter marathon of some type. A small pick-up truck travels in front of him, presumably carrying supplies. Perhaps they're carrying the cross across the US. Maybe just across Missouri and Kansas. Anyway, I was impressed by his faith and persistence. That is until I saw that they had attached a wheel like you'd find on a dolly to the bottom of the cross. Sure, he's dragging it and all. Eric tells me that the rolly wheel is a new Millenium upgrade on Calvary Crosses. We never did figure out where he was going, and I'm not sure where he is now. Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou? 11:02, Haiku Heights, MO Brown Hawk in a tree Waiting, waiting, waiting long For yummy roadkill A squirrel jumps out Eric sees all and dodges No dinner, birdie 11:18, No name, west-central, MO We become aware of an underground movement to punish Eric for killing little Tammy Goat Cheese. The first of what is to become a series of crazy people pull out in front of Eric. This one drives a largish, early 80s, brown car, and swerves widely into out lane. The car's right turn signal blinks and blinks. It may still be blinking. Eric guns the engine and escapes the vigilante, but it seems clear that the driver radios ahead to his compatriots. 11:45, Misery Did she say Mike or Milk? Better call. Odd Snow melt patterns result in snow that melts oddly. Eric asks, do you know what they call someone who L-O-V-E-S fish? An afishionado. I get out my laptop and begin writing up my notes from CCCC into a List of Ten. 12:15, Macon, GA, er, Macon, MO A stop for gas. I purchase a Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie Sandwich with Vanilla Ice Cream, hiding it from Eric as I make my purchase. The cashier is all knowing and helps me in my careful cover-up. When Eric sees my goodies in the car, he tells me that I will ruin my lunch, but fortunately, he says that the calcium will counteract the calories in the delectable treat. The product does contain nut traces, but I am not concerned. More information available at www.tollhouse.com. Another big brown car pulls out in front of us. This one does no weaving, but chooses to drive 30 mph on a stretch of road labeled 65 mph. Eric checks his rear view mirror and sure enough, another brown car is racing down the road. The vigilantes are closing in. He laments his state. Whatever shall he do if he's caught? After all, he questions, how often do you get a true jury of your peers? You don't seem them hauling in dozen crack dealers everytime there's a drug case. And how will they every find a bunch of guys who killed an electronic pet and their parent's car? Hmm. I guess that sounds confessional, he adds. Rewind. What I meant to say was "had a barbeque stain on my white tshirt." 12:41, Shelbina, MO Eric becomes delirious -- the pressure of being followed, of the unending landscape, of the fact that he wasn't smart enough to buy a Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie Sandwich with Vanilla Ice Cream when he had the chance. He announces that he is "always perceptive, never puzzled." I raise an eyebrow. He takes up the Dwight D. Eisenhower Statuary Stance (TM) while driving, quite a feat. Then he poeticizes (and he's not even in the little poet's room): Shelbina Nothing could be fin-ah Except perhaps Bovina I am forced to remind him that he's waxing nostalgic. Bovina was in Eastern Colorado and was devoid even of bovine. Eric snaps out of his landscape-induced psychosis and notes that Shelbina isn't half bad at all. They have a picnic table, a stop light, a laundromat, and even a Stuff 'n' Haul. I return to writing Lists of Ten, hood over my head so that I can pass unrecognized. 1:00, No Place in Particular, MO We begin discussing the film deal that I have been offered for these travelogues. The film is to be titled, "Escorting Traci" -- it's to be a retelling of "Driving Miss Daisy," updated for the new millenium. Morgan Freeman will reprise his role as my driver. The part of me (Traci, not Microsoft Millenium Edition) will be played by Steven Wright. And as a Hollywood-added extra, an annoying monkey will accompany the two on their misadventures as they travel from Illinois to Denver. This part will be played by Joe Pesci. For the record, I would like to point out that "Escorting" in this title means something akin to chauffeuring or driving about. The title does not refer to "Escorting" as the term is used by Miss Jessup's 'Jesus is Lord' Escort Service, Where the Second Coming is a Sure Thing (TM). 1:30, Hannibal, MO We have lunch at Country Kitchen. I am excited to know that I have eaten in the same town as Mark Twain. In fact for all we know, he might have come all the way out here one day on a whim and sat down to eat a bug or something. Maybe Mark Twain sat right here in this very spot and ate -- though not at this table or in this building since plastic wasn't even invented then. Still, I may be in the footsteps of Mark Twain. Eric asks me if I've read a lot of Mark Twain's work. I say no, then begin naming titles, and realize that I've read just about everything -- Huck Finn, The Prince and the Pauper, A Connecticut Yankee, even crazy stuff like those letters from Satan that I can't remember the name of. I begin really, r-e-a-l-l-y wanting to go downtown to see Twain's house. While we're eating, all eyes in the restaurant focus on the intersection just north of the restaurant. Flashing police lights. Eric pulls up his collar and tries to look innocent and unnoticeable. He recalls the crime wave of the stolen canoe and realizes that his past may catch up with him. After lunch, Eric has a change of heart. No longer the cold-hearted electronic pet killer, he is a reformed man. Following the little map that we picked up in the entrance to Country Kitchen, Eric drives me into downtown Hannibal. We drive up to Rockcliffe Mansion (http://www.hanmo.com/hcvb/rockclif.html) where the entire Mississippi and Lover's Leap spread out before you like a picture postcard. Then he drives me down into the heart of town, straight to Mark Twain's boyhood home (http://www.hanmo.com/hcvb/boyhood.html). The whole block is surrounded by white picket fence. Across the street is Judge Clemens law office and the home of the young girl whom Twain used as the model for Becky Thatcher. The man was reared one block from the river. It's no wonder he was obsessed. Eric the God lets me get out of the car and go up and touch the house. I peer in the windows and see typical 1800s furniture through the wavy glass. So, it's a tourist trap. It's closed anyway, so no one will bother me for peering about. I put my hand flat on the front door. Ok, so I know that it's not the original wood or glass. And Lord knows it's not the original paint (http://www.outfitters.com/allyn/twain.html), but I am absolutely certain that Mark Twain must have at some point stood where I did and walked up and down in front of those buildings. Ok, I know I'm a nut. And this travelogue proves me insane. But what a shivery thrill to know that I was where Twain was. And yet, I rethink my behavior. How illustrative of the woes that we writers must endure as we're stalked by fans! My senses come to me. I realize that Twain is probably inside, hiding his head in his jacket hood and reclining in a chair so that he goes unseen. Additionally, we drove right up to the Mark Twain Dinette, and I took a picture of that revolving beer mug for posterity (to be available online at a later date). Then we drove past the remains of the crumbling bridge, past the birthplace of the Unsinkable Molly Brown, up onto I-72, and onward across the Ole Mississip and into Illinois. I return to writing Lists of Ten again, a very content person. 2:39, No Place in Particular, IL Eric asks what someone from Kansas would think about Illinois. I don't quite have an answer, but I think of the Texan version of MacBeth. Stubble, stubble, boll weevil trouble. 3:30, Springfield, IL Eric confesses that he is going to have his students read these travelogues as examples of how to "just write." I suggest that he might not want them to know all of these things about him that are divulged in these epistle. For instance, he has said more than once that boredom leads success. Can't his students then argue, Mr. Crump, If boredom is the road to success, then why don't you give boring essays an A? 4:00, No Place in Particular, IL Eric notes, The more you drink, the more you pee. There hasn't been a rest stop in a decade. 4:20, Pride of the Prairies Rest Stop, IL Relief is known by us. A great stream of poesy issues forth from the little poets' rooms. We return to the TechnoVan and begin the last 30 minutes of the drive to English Teacher Mecca. The phone rings. Someone is now a fugitive in Illinois as well. Eric's family believes that he will be home "this afternoon." Eric believes 5 or 5:30 is still this afternoon; some of Eric's family members believe that afternoon was a bit earlier. Eric quickly learns the importance of norming, and makes a note to do timetable norming before embarking on his next trip. 5:35, NCTE Headquarters We slide the TechnoVan into the docking station, unload all our technology, lock it safely away inside, and return to our respective homes. Here, I find that tulip leaves are creeping up and purple and yellow crocuses are showing their heads. The journey is over. The log complete. Eric says, It's the trail's end. No apostrophe error. |
