Monday, June 13, 2011

Breakfast in Kansas, bitches!

The thing everyone seems to know about Kansas is that it's flat, windy and not very scenic. All true, as far as I've seen. I rode the first 35 miles into the state, and it only took me about three or four long yawns. The wind was behind me, and the creaking from my tainted bottom bracket was the only evidence that I was doing any actual work. "Keeeeeeeep going," I begged, "keeeeeep being a tailwind." Just another week of this, and I'll be in Colorado! But I doubt many people are that lucky.

I stopped for cheap breakfast, and got an out-of-body experience for free. The space was vast and dim. The tables mostly matched, but one of the large round tables in the middle was a considerably more regal yard sale find. A folding table fit for kings of the 1970s. The panels of the dropped ceiling were evenly water-stained and yellowed from decades of cigarette smoke. The walls were particle board, screwed into place with some nice pine strips nailed in to cover the seams. It was quiet when I entered, and the staff of three were made of smiles and stares as I entered the silence. Three ceiling fans looked like upside-down roulette wheels, hurtling and yanking at their motors like dogs on a leash. The fourth had evidently made a run for it, it's wire tethers hung limp and ashamed. My body took a seat at a booth, as the rest of me watched in awe.

The cook doesn't make a bad breakfast. He told me this himself after we had a discussion about how unable he would be to ride a bicycle any meaningful distance. I believed him. We compared tattoos: eggs n' bacon vs. a giant cartoon turtle.

The cook was friendly, and he reminded me of the comedian Doug Benson. They look identical, and this guy was a sort of comedian as well. And a singer. He popped a quarter in the Compact Disc jukebox, selected some 1989-era Cher, and belted it out. I sat sideways to watch him read his own menu and sing until he was admonished by the kind waitress who was smoking at the counter. Also: the coffee didn't taste like coffee.

Most of the day, I had winds blowing from the side. The rest was heads or tails.

Kansas, bitches!

2 comments:

Trailer Park Cyclist said...

Kansas! Eastern Colorado is also Kansas-like 'till ya get a whiff of the Rockies.

Did I understand you to say your taint creaks?

Three Speed said...

I'm riding a bicycle, of course it creaks.