I
left work on Friday around noon, Tim’s flight was getting in to Cincy around
then and we were meeting at my place. I gassed up the car before getting on 71,
and then went inside for a hot dog in case we were on the road for a while
before stopping to eat. I grabbed one off the roller and put it in a bun. Once
I got to the counter the plain hot dog rolled right out of it’s bun and slowly
meandered across the well worn transactional space in front of the cashier, who
didn’t make any reaction to the sad escape attempt. I think they were
acknowledging the understood agreement that some things are better left not
remarked upon. I paid, put the dog back in it’s bun and ate it in a couple bites
before I reached the car. The Western Road Trip had officially started.
The
first leg of the trip was going to be the second worst one, only trailing the
last stretch back to Cincy at the tail end of the trip. It was a long night’s
run from Cincy to the Badlands without stopping for anything besides gas and
dogs. We had to cover that distance overnight to make sure that our schedule
for the rest of the trip held together.
As
we were rolling through northern Iowa, starting to go road crazy after 8 hours
or so, I came up with a ridiculous, kind of disturbing, and ultimately amazing
(my opinion) game show idea, but I have to keep it under my hat for now because
I have every intention of producing this game show at some point, and it would
be a shame if someone stole it from me because I tossed I laid it out in detail for free right here. Fuck that.
Let’s just say, people “die” when they answer incorrectly. Iowa brings the worst
out in people. I think the point is that when you’re driving through Iowa at
night, with nothing to keep your mind from wandering into dark corners, you may
end up conjuring up the greatest idea of your life.
