Monday, June 6th 11:09
The night before I left Lincoln I watched a lightening storm annihilate the skyline from atop an abandoned grain silo.
Wind raged around me and in moments I thought I might be blown off the roof. The storms in Nebraska come hard, and without much warning.
Earlier that evening I’d sipped rum from an icy glass while sitting at a table of women discussing our magical powers and mulling the idea of writing a witch book. We talked freely about polyamory, menstruation, patriarchy and art. The rain started on my way home. Almost immediately it was storming.
All day I had wanted to find a rooftop to see the city. Now it was more interesting. One of the people I was staying with mentioned the grain silo. We held hands and ran through the rain, and quickly arrived at a looming structure that, according to him has been abandoned for decades. We pushed a wood panel out of the way and crawled in, then scaled ladder after ladder until finally we were spit out on the top of the building, overlooking the city. He held me up against the wall and we kissed as the thunder sounded around us.
The next morning I set out through the trainyard towards the truck stop on the edge of town, bound for Oklahoma. I didn’t get far before a kind stranger pulled over and asked me to play him a tune on banjo. He ended up taking me to lunch, then driving me just out of town. Out there I walked a ways in the hot sun before a roaring motorcycle pulled up beside me, and soon I was flying down the highway, eyes slammed shut, arms wrapped tightly around this stranger’s shoulders. After a little ways he noticed a car pulled over off in the distance and, afraid it was a cop who would ticket him (since I didn’t have a helmet), he dropped me off and I continued on foot, a little worried about my dwindling water supply.
But it wasn’t a cop. It was a support vehicle for a relay run across the country to raise money for Multiple Sclerosis (MS). The MS car gave me water and granola bars, and then drove my to the next highway where I could head south. A couple rides later I was picked up by an elderly couple who invited me home for the night, so I spent an evening in the tiny town of Glasco, Kansas, picking old banjo tunes with my host.
And now I’ve finally made it down to Ponca City, Oklahoma. As this adventure draws closer to a close, I’m anxiously awaiting the next 🙂