Sicktrip Journal IV

September 1, 2005; Wednesday; 12:12am; In Waco, TX
We arrived in Waco this morning and have spent the day either a.) complaining about the weather or b.) asking Dana, our gracious host for the next few days, to show us the crazy side of Waco, which means we want to see cowboys shooting each other or something like that. Dana goes to Baylor, which is a beautiful campus, and is maybe the only attractive part of Waco. So far, we can tell that people here are obsessed with high school football (we saw a highway billboard advertising Nike’s partnership with the local high school and we also drove by the high school’s stadium, and it is definitely way nicer and larger than Cal Poly’s). Since Waco is the birthplace of Dr. Pepper, we see lots of signs that say “We like our Dr. Pepper around here”. Tomorrow we are going to the Dr. Pepper museum with the eagerness of Mowgli the wolf child before a hunt. We are also going to go to the Texas Ranger (Chuck Norris…yes…) Museum.

We had the privilege (?) of going to a Wal-Mart Supercenter today. Somehow, there were hundreds of brand new bicycles hanging from the ceiling. This is incredible, in case you don’t know. Also, there were a few spots out front specifically set aside for “mothers of sick children”. I hated Wal-Mart before, but now I don’t know whether to fall down in sublimity-induced worship or to rally together the locals with pitchforks and torches in hand, demanding the death of the monster. Wal-Mart Supercenters are big, and by big, I mean you could probably land the space shuttle in them through the front doors.

Also, we went to a restaurant tonight and we couldn’t understand anything our server was saying because she said “y’all” after every other word. Here is an example (slight hyperbole):

Server: “Hey y’all, what can I get y’all’s for dinner tonight? Would y’all like some chips and queso?”
Me: “What?”
Server: “Y’all y’all y’all y’all y’all…Don’t Mess With Texas….y’all y’all y’all”
Me: “I will have the Dijon Chicken”

And when I ordered the Dijon Chicken I purposely pronounced it “Dye-John”, just for kicks.

We have noticed that as time goes on, more and more things become funnier and funnier, until we are pretty much laughing at almost everything anyone says. We are tired, and by tired, I mean that I am saying “…x, and by x, I mean…” too much. We will work on an algebraic formula for calculating hysterical loopiness, h(t,d), as time, t, goes on over a distance, d.