Saturday, July 31, 2010
Day 1: July 30.
Interstate Culture, that strange ersatz community of travellers and truckers, gas station attendants, convenience store clerks and motel employees--has a lot in common with InterNET Culture. Everyone is superficially friendly (we'll save for another day my argument that even the worst Internet flamers are actually superficially friendly--at least we can agree that they're harmless); nobody knows anybody; nobody trusts anybody; nobody actually knows anything or if they do there's no way for you actually to know that; and it's the same damn thing no matter where you go. My first encounter with Interstate Culture, this trip was immediately upon entering N Dakota at Pembina. One comfort you CAN count on: the worst cup of coffee known to man. Styled "French Roast" it was worse, if anything, than the little foil pouches of Nescafe they give in Greece to American and English tourists whose sensibilities are too delicate for Greek Coffee.
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About Me
- cricket
- I'd be a blackguard and a cad, if I weren't so ineffectual. The less said "About Me", the better.
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