Oklahoma/Texas: Of totem poles and 72 oz. steaks

Day 2: Oklahoma and Texas

**NOTE:  I am so, so very sorry for the delay. My computer stopped working out of nowhere a few days ago, and I haven't had a way to update this blog. As it is, I'm sitting in the lobby of a Best Western in Utah on an ancient desktop that I think might still be running Windows 95.**


**NOTE 2:  So that ancient computer last night didn't let me upload any photos, so this post has been sitting here for a full day before I could post it with the appropriate pics. Okay, enough notes.**

It was raining in Joplin when we woke up on Saturday.

It was the most rain we'd seen in months, but considering where we were, Meagan, Matt and I were a little anxious to go out running.

Joplin's cleaned up a lot in a year. By the look of the neighborhoods I ran through, there wasn't any damning evidence that a lethal, multi-vortex tornado tore the town apart last May. The only telling sign were a underground cement bunkers in the back of a few yards. "Fool me once, shame on you..." sort of thinking, I suppose.

Most of it is underground, as you can probably tell.

We got on the road at the crack of dawn (8:30!) for the long drive ahead through Oklahoma and Texas. Joplin stands right on the border of Missouri and Oklahoma, so we were in our fourth of 13 states in a matter of minutes.
Our first stop was at a buffalo ranch, which turned out to be more of a gas station/travel plaza with a handful of buffalo hanging out behind a fence. Since we were in full tourist mode, we couldn't help but take a few pictures. Meagan even tried calling out to the buffalo, but they stared at her, unamused.

Not pictured:  Buffalo that come when they're called.

Not pictured:  Buffalo that cared that I scaled a freaking fence to take this picture. They still hid from me.

To continue the theme of stopping at places that turn out to be hilariously different from what we imagined, we pulled up to a Totem Pole Park, which we had all been looking forward to seeing.

In reality, it was, well...

That's....a totem pole?

There's a house in the background. How authentic.

This is literally the entire park.

That's a person's backyard, if you couldn't tell. We were the only ones there. The park took all of five minutes to walk through. In fact, I think Mom and Meagan spent more time trying to brave the port-o-potties than they did actually looking at totem poles. The park was still cute and quirky - which seems to be the theme of our trip so far - so I'm glad we stopped.

Speaking of themes, finding a place to eat lunch was another episode. After coming up empty in a search for rest stops, Dad pulled off into a random town in Oklahoma. We ended up parking at an elementary school and eating on the playground, waiting for the police to hog tie us and drag us away for the felony charge of being five adults eating lunch at an elementary school.

"Stranger danger at the playground!" - Every child in town

After finishing lunch arrest-free, we hopped back on the road toward Oklahoma City. It was on this stretch of the trip that Matt discovered farming equipment.

Matt: I like that tall building over tere.
Mom: Honey, those are silos.
Matt:  ASYLUMS!?!
Mom:  SI-LOS.

After that brief lesson in agriculture, we arrived in Oklahoma City for what would be the most somber stop on our trip:  The memorial site for the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing.

This gate signifies 9:01 a.m., the minute before the bomb went off.

The far gate reads "9:03," the minute after the bomb went off. The memorial chairs are to the  left.

Some of the 168 chairs, one for each person who died in the blast. The smaller chairs are for the children who died.

The 92-year old American Elm that survived the blast, now a symbol of hope and recovery.

It was sadness and beauty and peacefulness and silence and solemnity all wrapped together by twin marble gates, a reflection pool, 168 empty stone chairs and a resilient elm that survived both the blast and the ensuing reconstruction.

It was a nice change of pace amidst the goofy, fun tourist stops, and I think everyone in the family really appreciated the visit.

After we recovered from the spell the memorial park had put on us, we continued down our path toward Texas. Matt and Meagan taught Mom a proper Texas greeting (The University of Texas's "HOOK 'EM HORNS!" phrase and accompanying hand gesture). By the time we crossed the border, Mom was ready.

Texas

Ohhh, Texas. The wide open countryside, endless skies and adorable accents.

Disappointingly cowboy-less at the moment.

We suburban Midwesterners marveled at the fact that we could see storm clouds and rain miles away while still driving under the bright blue sky. Meagan noted that - at such a distance - the storms looked like pieces of the sky were falling

Mom, on the other hand, had her nose buried in that trusty Route 66 book. She told us to be on the lookout for all sorts of animals. According to the book, she said, several types of wild animals could be seen from the side of the road. But then...

Mom: "Oh. Those are the names of creeks, not animals. I was wondering how we were going to see catfish on the side of the road..."

We checked into our hotel - a Hampton Inn - in Amarillo. Since our drive through Texas would be the shortest of the trip, we decided our precious few hours in the Lone Star State had to be spent wisely.

So where else would we go for dinner but The Big Texan - home of the 72 oz. steak - itself?

Adam Richman, the host of Man v. Food, visited The Big Texan in the very first episode of the entire series. He won the challenge.

A giant cowboy boot guards the left flank of the entrance.

The hotel next door.

The sign drivers can see from the highway, as well of about two dozen of those billboards.

In case I wasn't clear earlier, a restaurant with a giant cowboy boot out front and a shooting gallery, faux stockades, a giant rocking chair, a fully themed hotel next door with a Texas-shaped pool, dozens of slot machines and three forests' worth of mounted deer heads on the inside isn't typically our cup of tea.

But y'all can bet yer bootstraps it was not plum but pert near the darn tootinist place we'd ever been!

Our 45-minute wait flew by with the help of the aforementioned shooting gallery, the holographic pictures adorning the walls that morphed from classic 19th century portraits into zombies, a gigantic gift shop and a cowboy crooning country songs on the outside patio.

Matt practicing his hardcore "kill shot" at the shooting gallery.

Dad and Matt dwarfed by the giant rocking chair on the patio.

Adorable cowboy singing to the crowd.

And the people. Oooh, the people. Two middle-aged women with very tall blond up-dos approached me to take a picture of them in front of the giant bull outside, "if ya don't mind, doll." Then two men wearing gallon hats sauntered up to them - fingers in belt loops - and said with a thick draw:  "Well, we wanted a picture with the bull, but looks like we got ourselves a two fer one!" Another lady - again with big blond hair - yelled at me from across the bar to get one of the frozen margaritas with a jalapeno pepper inside. "You look like you can handle it, girl!"

Breaking news:  Jalapenos are hot.

We finally got seated in a massive dining room, where there must have been a mounted buck or buffalo or moose head every five feet. Duos and trios of guitar-playing singers traveled from table to table. At the center of the chaos sat one brave (?) man on a spotlit stage. He had one hour to eat a 72 oz. steak and a bunch of other side dishes. If he beat the challenge, his meal was free. If not, he pays $72 and takes a very public walk of shame down the steps and through the other tables. It was clear that - for all its bells and whistles - The Big Texan considered this cardiac arrest-inducing challenge its main draw.

"I hate my arteries!" - Man doing this challenge

I ordered one of the monstrous frozen margaritas (it was delicious) and some buffalo quesadillas (they were delicious). We all had such a great time, especially considering this was a type of place that we would roll our eyes at on vacations past.

Our beers and margaritas hit a bit harder thanks to the eight-hour gap between lunch and dinner, and the drinks gave to some unforgettable conversations. Without going into detail, I need to figure out how to write out "hooncha" so I can remember it forever.

We headed back to the hotel, crashed for the night, then woke up to prepare for one more slice of Texas, New Mexico and the 2-mile tran up the Sandia Mountains.