One day, it's 110 degrees. The next day, school's canceled because it's snowing 3 inches and someone created a tiny snowman on a bench.
This will be a brief entry. If it was a chicken, it's been deep fried; breaded and tasty-looking but leaves you wanting more.
The last week of tour went something like this. It is very rapid fire, because it all went very quickly. I'll even use second person so it feels like you're a part of the experience:
Halloween. Bad music. Shattering the flirtatious dreams of barely dressed fairies, zombies, and Egyptian queens. Post-Halloween. Changing hotels. Changing weather patterns. Dust storms. Blizzards. Sunshine. Restaurants being closed at prime dinner hours in the middle of the week. Chicken for breakfast. Chicken for lunch. Chicken for dinner. Accidentally visiting a famous cafe used in the movie Cars. Wishing you were staying in concrete wigwams instead of a hotel. Wandering into an Alcoholics Anonymous building because it looks like a secret society and you're interested in joining, but then suddenly you're not. Strange men glaring you off their gazebo even though it's a public gazebo next to a museum. Changing hotels again. Eating scary Thai food. Loving scary Thai food. Coming back for more scary Thai food. Driving into free range territory. Horses. Cows. Fear of bovine-induced car accidents. Navajo people welcoming you and being incredibly awesome. Navajo people loving your show and wanting you to come back. Navajo people providing you a hotel, restaurant, and museum dipped in their beautiful history. One drunk Navajo who said he was called "Arnold Reemus, smartest man on Earth" being prejudiced against white-men, swearing in your face, and then shaking your hands with his sticky sap hands. One amazing Navajo artist by the name of Tyler Bighorse telling you all about the creation story and history of the Navajo. Buying art from said Navajo artist in order to remember the astounding oral experience and to remind you of how assimilation can sometimes create a beautifully blended and entirely new culture. Leaving Arizona. Driving to Four Corners after sunset and getting honked off the property before you could take a picture of the "Closed" sign. Driving for 24 hours, being exhausted, and talking about real-life problems and reminiscing about Christmas traditions. Arriving in Minneapolis. Eating Punch Pizza with friends. Sleeping.
You get the picture.
In the midst of all that, I will leave you with a lyric from Black Lemon, the acoustic rock group dressed as classic Batman villains we stumbled into.
Life can't give you lemons if you cut down all the trees.
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