Chapter 10: Party Across the Great Plains

Chapter 10: Party Across the Great PlainsWhen I woke up, we were in the parking lot of a liquor store somewhere in the middle of the Great Plains. Other than the grocery store across the street, there really wasn’t anything else around for miles. Driver Chris stood up, holding the safety bar by the door with one knee on the buddy seat. “Listen up guys. We are in Albert Lea, Minnesota. We’re stopping here for one hour to stock up on supplies. There’s a grocery store across the street where we’ll be doing a little food shopping. They have a snack bar, but don’t eat too much because we’ll be stopping for dinner in a couple hours at a gorgeous lake.” He waited for some chatter to subside. “The lake is super beautiful. So, you’ll have a chance to swim there. After dinner we’ll be driving through the night to Badlands National Park in South Dakota.Tomorrow night we will be camping on an Indian reservation. Alcohol is hard to find in Indian country. The Indians do not allow liquor stores on the reservation, so we will be buying supplies for the party here. This will be our last chance to stock up on alcohol for the next few days, so everybody might want to contribute. Chicken Jim will be collecting money and taking orders, although you are welcome to do your own shopping if you prefer.”There was more chatter before he continued. “The eastbound Green Tortoise cross country bus will be meeting us in the Badlands tomorrow night for a camp-out party. It’s a Tortoise tradition to compete to see which bus has the most fun. Ever since I first teamed up with Brian our bus has won every time, so I’d like to keep our winning streak alive.”“What do we win?” Little Josh cried out.Driver Chris contemplated this over the din. “You get to have a wonderful time,” he answered. “I know you guys won’t let me down, but I want to encourage you to be as wild and crazy as you can possibly be, so we’re guaranteed to win. So, get psyched and get whatever you need to show the other bus what it means to have a good time.”The passengers cheered with a bunch of yips and yahoos. Berndt Toast made an Indian war whoop by patting his mouth repeatedly. Judging from how many of the Green Tortoise passengers made the same sound, people all over the world must have made Native American war whoops as children. We were simply excited to be heading into Native American country that’s all. Our white-man war whoops were performed in ignorance for sure, but not with any intentional disrespect or malice toward Native Americans.The popularization of this patting of the mouth phenomenon is a product of television, historical fear mongering and the inability of most white people to make ululating mouth sounds. It should come as no surprise that Native American warriors never made such sounds in battle. Rather, this was our failed attempt at mimicking the ululating sound rare Native American women make in celebration when warriors return from battle. Our excitement for Native American culture would culminate in a celebration on sacred land in the days to come.A small rectangle of bright green manicured grass graced the otherwise featureless parking lot just outside the bus door. This seemed completely out of place amidst the fallow fields of Minnesota. The sprinklers at the liquor store had recently run, leaving the long blades of grass ashimmer with dew. The Irish girls ran out first, followed closely by Fräulein Vera. Their squeals of joy made obvious the pleasurable feeling of hot bare feet on wet grass. All the passengers piled off the bus in similar fashion.There was a strip mall across the street with a supermarket. Several people were craving meat, so they planned to find food together. Peruvian Ursula asked Driver Chris, “Is there any where around here to buy a bathing suit?”