Here I Am/ Blog You Like a Hurricane

War Journal Entry: 000001
Waterloo, IA to Ogallala, NB
Distance: 589 miles

I always knew the day would come when I’d have to leave my homestead and set out into the over world with a little bit of money and some items I’d collected around town. But I always imagined doing it by wandering around the outskirts of town for a little bit, fighting Slimes and other low-level enemies, all the while gaining experience and gold. Slowly but surely I’d move from town to town, fighting stronger monsters and upgrading my weapons and armor, and meet some interesting characters along the way—many of whom would share a common goal with me and join my party. Eventually, one of our quests would have us raise an airship from its resting place beneath the desert’s surface, after which we would take to the skies and travel wherever need be much faster than any other form of transportation available. We’d do that until we prevented the crystals from shattering, and ending the lives of every living thing on Earth. After which, we’d part ways.

But that’s not how it happens. Instead, I am heading out solo. There is no wandering around because there are no monsters to slay, therefore, there is no gold to reap from their innards, so why wander? And besides, wandering is made possible by large sums of gold, which without monsters to slay, cannot be obtained. You see the vicious cycle this conundrum creates?
Instead, my trip gets to be a boring straight shot to Los Angeles. The trip will take me to exotic places like Nebraska. Before entering Nebraska though, we have to purge ourselves of Iowa.

Really, no explanation of Iowa is needed. Anyone who reads this already knows of its rolling hills, prairie fields, corn that grows as high as an elephant’s eye, and the really sad elephants they keep at the zoo. However, Council Bluffs, Iowa does need to be examined in depth, as even people that have lived their whole lives in Iowa have never witnessed the travesty that is the gateway into Nebraska (to its credit, Council Bluffs works well as a symbol of things to come).

Apparently, the people of Council Bluffs believe in constructing only half of their buildings. They get a good start by laying the foundation, hanging girders, and even a little bit of dry wall. But then like a child that has grown bored with a toy they are playing with, they quit what they’re doing and leave a mess right in the middle of the living room floor for people to step on. It’s an eyesore. These half-mast buildings are complimented by heavy machinery just lying around, furthermore cluttering the place. And we have company coming over in five minutes, Council Bluffs. And the table isn’t set and the meatloaf isn’t even finished cooking yet! I've got so many things to do still. Oh, there’s the doorbell! Someone zip me up in the back. Get this mess cleaned up right now Council Bluffs and don’t let me see you again for the rest of the night.

To top off my Council Bluffs experience, I saw a crane sitting on top of a bridge. What makes this special is that the crane was taking its bucket and smacking it against the underside of the bridge—the same bridge the crane was positioned on top of. I’m sure whoever was in the cab knew what they were doing, so I didn’t stop to tell him how horrible this was all going to end. I’ll assume the driver knew and was just trying to prove a point to a foreman that wouldn’t listen. Or that he was pouting because he didn’t get what they wanted, and I know better than to get in the way of a construction worker when he or she is having a hissy fit. I wanted to stay and see how this event would play out, but I have a lot of country to cover today and a finite amount of gold to work with, so tarry-ho!

Nebraska. What is there to say about the absence of everything? For anyone that has not trekked across the great expanse of nothingness that is Nebraska, be warned: every horror story you’ve heard of the place is true. When first entering Nebraska, there is something. It’s called Omaha. After Omaha, it’s a No Man’s Land because not a single, solitary other living, breathing thing awaits you. Whoever was supposed to prevent the Nebraska crystals from shattering did a terrible job--they're probably related to Dallas somehow. What is there is a straight road and brown all around—and that’s it. The one thing you will see on your trip through Nebraska is a bridge that crosses the highway. The thing that makes this bridge special is that no road crosses the bridge. It is just a lit up manmade growth that one can drive under. As far as I can tell, this structure has no value whatsoever. It’s completely worthless. Much like Nebraska.

While traveling through Nebraska, I heard “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers for the first time on my trip, but certainly not the last. In fact, I heard it so many times that it became the official theme song of my journey. That’s big news to anyone that knows me because they also know “Born To Run,” by Bruce Springsteen is my official travel song. But not once in twenty-six hours of driving did I hear the Boss yell at me through my car speakers. But that’s fitting. In the West lies baby-eating hippie stoners like Tom Petty and his band of Heartbreakers, not working class Joe’s like you and me and Bruce and his E Street Volunteers For the Homeless.

I ended the evening stopping at a Super 8 Motel in Ogallala, Nebraska. Yes, Nebraska has a city named Ogallala. I was skeptical of its existence too, thinking it was just a ploy for my step-dad to finally get me out of the house. But I seen it with me own eyes. But like everywhere in this deprived state, not much there is to see in Ogallala. It’s just another manila envelope taped to the beige wall that is the Diarrhea Sandwich State. After checking in, I watched television in a different time zone, and went to bed, wondering what poor life decisions led me to spending the night in a Super 8 Motel in Ogallala, Nebraska.