Somewhere in South Dakota, the West begins. You start your trek in Sioux Falls which is faux West. You see vast seas of corn along the highway, so you know you're still in the Midwest. As you cross the silted ponds that used to be the Missouri River, the corn thins out, and what you do see will exist only at the suffrage of giant spidery assemblies which look like steroidal versions of one of those new species of bugs they're always finding in Papua New Guinea.
Eventually even the irrigated corn gives way to grass and badlands -- and larger signs reminding you that you're getting awful close to Wall Drug where ice water is still free, coffee just five cents, and there is parking for about six thousand senior-citizen tour buses. Here (or just beyond, depending on which nitpickey buddy you're explaining all this to), is The West, and it is now permissible to doff your Topsiders and gimme cap in favor of your Tony Lamas and Stetson. Also to say howdy instead of hello.
2 comments:
By golly, I do believe you've got it, Ollie! LOL
Yup, when you cross the 100th meridian, which is pretty much where the Missouri rolls and flows across this state, you have crossed the line. On the west side we get about 15 to 16 inches of moisture per year. On the east side, they get way more. Way way more! That is a pretty good way to define the west from the east. Also, by and large on the west side, we still like people and go out of our way to visit with them, unlike our eastern counterparts.
And yes, we still allow people to clutter their land with billboards, if they so choose. After all, it is their land.
THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!
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