PEST FEST [b!]: The Ride Home (Part 2)

(Ed. Note: Part One is here.)

So I make it out of Wyoming into South Dakota, and it's the middle of the afternoon and it's hot and I've been drinking this 3 liter jug of water just to keep from dying so of course I have to take another leak. Like real bad. Luckily the South Dakota Visitor's Center is just inside the border so I stop and make a dash for the bathroom because I have to go so bad that I'm practically pinching my peen like I'm a 4-year old kid.

I walk in the door and I'm immediately assaulted by the old volunteer couple working the front counter: "Welcome to South Dakota! Where you from? Where you headed to? Do you need a map?" Christ, it's like if these two gam-gams don't find out every little piece of information about me that very instant they're going to die or something. Within about 22 seconds I learn that the old guy used to teach at a prison in Oregon, and the old lady loves steak and is recommending places to eat in Rapid City. 

I couldn't get a word in edge wise, and all I want to do is book a leak! It's like these two are so starved for conversation like I'm the first person they've seen in about a decade. Swear to God, if I ever retire and say that I want to volunteer at some visitor's center, just shoot me dead right there.

So after I go to the bathroom I feel like I need to talk to them a little or else they'll commit suicide or something, so I ask the guy to recommend the best way to get to Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse. He says that I could continue on 90 and get off at some exit, but that he'd recommend the scenic route, so I oblige. 

What a load of horseshit that was. What the old guy failed to mention during his painfully detailed description of Route 385 is that it is some crappy 2-lane highway full of bullshit tourist trap towns and that I'd likely get stuck behind some cement mixing truck (which, no joke, I did) and that what could have been a 40-minute excursion to Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse turned into a 2-hour ordeal. 

And I'm sure the old coot wanted me to stop in one of these towns for some special "black hills taffy" or some crap like that to support the local businesses because he probably gets some kickback for every sucker like me who stops in. Swear to God, if I ever see that old guy again I'll show him What's. 

Fast forward about 90 minutes and I finally make it to the Crazy Horse Memorial. Not to be a dick or anything, but what a load of crap that is. They charge you $10 to get in, and all that does is get you is admittance to the Visitor's Center, which is a full mile away from the face of the mountain and has all the usual tourist bullshit - Native American crafts and photos and a concession stand and stuff. You can look out the big picture window and see the progress of Crazy Horse, but it is pretty much the same view from the highway. If you want to get a closer look of the Monument, you need to take a shuttle bus which is another 4 bucks. Total scam. So I snap a photo or two and get the hell out of there. I mean, how many Dreamcatchers can I guy look at, anyway?

So the moral of this story is if you want to go see Crazy Horse, don't bother paying the 10 bucks and going in. Just pull your car over to the roadside and snap a photo that way. And under no circumstances stop into the South Dakota Visitor's Center because the old guy will just convince you to take the long way where you'll die of boredom.

Tune in next time where I tell you about Mt. Rushmore. Another load of crap, that one is.