We started the vacation by going to my cousin's wedding. The fiancee's mother makes my head want to explode. I lived off orange rock candy for two days, which made squeezing into this awful dress surprisingly difficult. I was afraid I'd cough up my small intestine.
And then we drove, from 9 at night until noon the next day, through driving rain. I took a gorgeous photo; we had to drive through Minneapolis, and I put the camera on long exposure, and the picture is through the windshield. It's splatters of liquid gold dribbling down against a dark background.
At about three in the morning my dad nearly veered off the road.
And then we got to this little tiny motel in South Dakota, within driving distance to Mount Rushmore. Our room didn't have TV because it would be an extra like $15 to pay for it, and my father the stickler didn't want the extra expense.
Mount Rushmore sucks. It's patriotic and nasty. Full of chubby tourists (such as myself) taking awful pictures (like myself) of a monument to disrespect.
Lovely.
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