.::tuesday, september 27::.

... St. Louis, which neither of us geographically savvy geniuses realized was going to be on our way. We just kinda saw the top of the arch, and one of us pointed.

"Heh. Hey, check that thing out!"

"Yeah, no kidding! It's like they're trying to be, uh... that city with the big arch, which one is that?"

"Uh... Cincinnati?"

"YEAH! It's like they're trying to be Cincinnati!"

"Heh."

...

"No wait, it's another city. Which one has the arch?"

...

"Uh... I think it's... this one? Where the hell are we?"

Like the arch, I'm not sure where the Ozarks are. But I don't think we got very close to them. Conveniently, Ozarkland was there to help.

The guy at the store told me the "The Ozarks is a river. I think."

Come to think of it, he didn't sound very convincing.

I don't think this is the Ozarks. But it's still pretty.

Ah, yes. What would a travelogue be without the obligatory "Self Portrait in Public Restroom?"

... or two.

And of course the "how to annoy Val while she, once again, does all of the work and Danielle, once again, takes pictures of the gas station" photo.

Before the sun set, we were nearing Topeka. We were making good time and had already nearly finished our first book on tape (which I was originally opposed to, but turned out to be a good choice for those long drives through the midwest).

This evening we pulled into the cleanest KOA either of us had ever seen.

Fresh-picked flowers in a clean bathroom, with oldies playing over the speakers. Class!

This evening we were - once again - the only tent on the campgrounds. As we boiled water for our after-dinner tea, a lovely young woman appeared out of nowhere asking for a light.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" She had an accent, but spoke English so well we both assumed she was from the States.

She sat down to join us for tea and we introduced ourselves. Tania, a Mexican woman, was here for a rather extraordinary reason: she and a handful of others were following the migration of the Monarch butterfly and making a documentary on it. Oh, and they were following the migration via a hang-glider painted like a butterfly.

Yeah. A hang-glider. We thought we were badass for driving across the country; these people were SOARING from Mexico to Canada, and back again!

Soon Tania's British butterfly companion Greg came down to join us and tell us about their adventures in the sky.

And the correct tea to drink at night, which we appreciated.

If you watch the Discovery Channel, you might want to keep your eyes peeled. I'll be surprised if they don't air the documentary when it's finished. In the meantime, you can follow them at their website.

And by the way, these were the ONLY drawings I did on the trip, and only because I didn't want to flash our guests with my camera. As much as I love my job, it was sooooo nice to take a break from drawing for a week!

The pilot of the giant hang-gliding butterfly had a severe toothache, which is why the team was in Kansas for the night. They were staying in a cabin nearby, and before we split for the night we mentioned doing breakfast (or at least breakfast tea) the next morning.

In the pitch dark, I woke up after what felt like only an hour of sleep.

*tap* *tap* *BOOM!!*

It was starting to rain, and the sky was gonna let us have it any minute. I roused Val from her sleep.

"Uh, it's raining. What do we do?"

Val eyed the mesh top of the tent, with its small rips and tears, under nothing but the sky (because we'd decided to ditch the rain fly).

"Well... I guess we get up."

With way more speed than I'm used to having at 6 in the morning, we bundled up the kitchen stuff, our bags, the tent and our trash, and hit the showers after leaving a note to the butterfly people.

Val and I learned something about each other last year in Europe that we, for one reason or another, had never learned while we were roommates in college: that we're both 100% driven by our appetites. If we're both hungry, we're very likely to kill each other. Thus began our search for food...