“…This…seems like it’s a trap.”
Listen, intrepid readers,
To a story of woe and fears
Of our brave soul, [REDACTED]
Who has suffered all these years.
Once a journalist
Of an investigative nature,
He one day found himself…
In quite a Vegan nightmare.
And as the months went on,
He put up with lots of shit…
So AFFotD rewarded him
With a kindly road trip.
Too bad for [REDACTED]
We don’t want him having too much fun
So that’s why we made him
Drive all the way…to Omaha.
[REDACTED] Visits Omaha (Nebraska) (Like the Cornhuskers) (It’s in the Midwest, Alright?)
I don’t know how I got here, but there have been worse assignments. I mean, what I’m saying is, it’s not like I have to watch, like, Women’s soccer again. I basically got shoved in a car, was handed a google maps print out, and was told “get your ass to Omaha.” When I asked why they just said something about the Midwest or me being too drunk to even pay attention to what they were saying or something like that- I wasn’t really listening. Cards on the table, I haven’t had a BAC under .15 since 1997.
Really the only problem is that I was given a pretty un-American car. Not only is it made in Germany it’s…ugh…fuel efficient. Yeah, yeah, Mini Coopers looked cool in The Italian Job, but I’m not trying to steal any fucking gold, I’m trying to drive down the flattest highway I’ve ever seen in my life.
And some fucking asshole put a mini version of the damn car inside the damn car. I’ve had to stare at it this whole drive and I’m pretty sure at one point it whispered the word, “pussy” at me. The fucker.
And when I say that these are the flattest roads I’ve ever driven on in my life, I mean to say they never change. By the time I got to Iowa I was pretty much convinced that the whole Midwest is flatter than that coked out Olson twin.
Don’t believe me? Photo-journalism, motherfuckers.
Seriously, that highway is so long and straight, my ex-girlfriends confuse it for…well, needless to say, it’s long. I was starting to get worried that this was some sort of never ending hell of a road trip, where I can never reach the destination because the Midwest is basically a thousand mile mirage…but then I saw something beautiful.
I saw… Well, words can’t do it justice.
The World’s fucking Largest Truck Stop. And you might not be able to see it on that screen…but that’s a waving American flag. Of course I had to stop here. Of course I had to stop here. I’m pretty sure my handlers at AFFotD would have tried to string me up or something had I not gone in here. [Editor’s note: Yeah, pretty much]
Also, contractually, I’m obligated to point out that the Truck Stop is sponsored by Wendy’s, proud partner of America Fun Fact of the Day. Ugh. It still feels fucking gross saying that. I’m all slimy.
And, ugh, contractually I’m obligated to post another picture of the entrance, so that the Wendy’s logo can be more pronounced. I hate this.
Going through the World’s Largest Truck Stop is pretty fucking magical. The first thing that greets you is this amazing, terrifyingly gigantic scene. See if you can spot anything especially American in there.
Camouflage shirts? Check. American flags? Check. Giant truck randomly parked inside!? CHECK FUCKING MATE!
Plus, there’s a mural in here. Like, again, inside this giant store that sells shot glasses, energy drinks, and religious figurines.
Now that’s…actually pretty classy looking. Someone took a lot of time to paint that. It’s art, which apparently some people thing is important or some shit. But, like all art, the more you delve into it the more pieces just sort of go away until you’re left with just raw trashiness. I’m not saying that this is the Redneck version of the Mona Lisa but that’s just because there’s no people on this.
So while first of all, you might see a landscape (that’s far too hilly for the Midwest, those liars) then you see that it’s really just showing the World’s Largest Truck Stop. In the background is Chicago, in the foreground is a river, and everywhere you just see trucks and tractors. But if you take a step back, this work of art loses some of it’s glossiness when you realize…
THE MURAL IS A GODDAMN TRUCK! IT IS ON A GODDAMN TRUCK! I never knew I had lived before this moment. Do you know how low “truck” is on the list of “canvasses that will let you take a work of art seriously”? It’s roughly between “Tree Stump” and “stripper’s back.”
You know why paintings go on, well, easels? Because you can’t see inside of them. If you can see inside somewhere that has a mural, you’re always going to think less of the mural. Think about it, where do you normally see murals? Bridges. What’s underneath those bridges? Depressing hobo camps. What’s inside this truck mural?
Uhh…depressing hobo camp as well? It sort of takes away from the magic of having a giant semi-truck randomly inside a shopping center when the back is open, letting you see what appears to be either a bottle of Windex or some cheap alcohol (or both) with a stack of boxes that look less like “storage” and more like “50 year old divorcee moving into his first apartment since his 20s.” Oh hey, speaking of Meth.
Yeah, between the Windex in the truck, and this set of…what I’m trying to say is I’m pretty sure where the producers of Breaking Bad get all their necessary props. I’m not saying I want to start a meth lab or anything like that, but if there’s a Walgreen’s within ten miles of the World’s Largest Truck Stop, I now know where to go to get all the necessary ingredients.
Oh I feel at this point I should point out two things. First of all, this place has several semi trucks inside, they don’t limit themselves to the mural.
“Two trucks? Holy shit.”
Well not quite…
BOOM. THREE trucks. Inside. Just, chilling. This one has some weird mainframe computer that looks like it should be in the base of the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, and there’s also a fat man with a beard just standing there to remind us how American all of this is. I could probably stay here forever. By the way, I also happened to find the only black people in the entire state of Iowa.
I’ve seen more sincere poses in a college brochure.
Anyway, it was while I was looking at the giant photo of a black couple on the wall that desperately screamed, “Seriously there are black people in this state!” I saw a sign that I chose to follow…despite looking like a solid way to get myself in a Deliverance like situation.
If “Trucker’s Loft” isn’t a porno title, I don’t know what is. Going up the stairs, though, gives me a good sense of accomplishment. Just overlooking this whole crazy thing. Look at it. Just…just look at it.
“Someday my son, all this will be yours.”
Okay, well since I have to drive about…3o0 more miles, I’m going to take a quick nap in the Trucker’s loft before finishing the rest of the drive.
[Editor’s Note: Stay tuned for tomorrow’s finale of REDACTED‘s trip to Omaha]