Huzzah for Tourist Traps!

Well, Lisa and I just got back from our quick trip to Chicago; we still had a bunch of junk in Mike Daley's basement that we had to get back to Tucson, and we wanted to go to Kimberly Senior/Lance Baker's wedding (a sidenote--if Bad Guys* wanted to utterly destroy Chicago off-loop theatre, that wedding would have been the place to set off the satchel charges, and how.), and we stopped in to see Michelle DiMaso and her girl Kim's twin boys (cute as a couple of bug's ears, and how again)

It was a brutal trip, overall; 14-hour days of driving have made a mess of me. I catch myself trying to check my rearview mirror while walking. Hopefully, that will wear off...

But there were some good times--I somehow finished the new Harry Potter (ruled--my second fave after Prisoner of Azkaban. Hey JK! More werewolves!), the aforementioned wedding and babies, the beauty of New Mexico, the high-class breed of rednecks they grow in Oklahoma, sex while driving at 70 mph...

But you don't want to hear about any of that. I'm here today to tell you of the two great roadside attractions we managed to squeeze in!

The Thing?--a couple hours outside of Tucson--I think its in Cochise, but I'm not sure. I've been wanting to stop here since we first made the trip out here from Chicago. A classic tourist trap--huge giftshop/Dairy Queen/gas station/attraction. I'm not gonna tell you the nature of The Thing? itself--although I will say that I am convinced that the burned-out Stuckeys up the road is the result of said Thing? striking out in search of a pecan log one dark night, and giving in to its destructive impulses. But the other junk leading up to the Thing? proper is great. I am especially fond of the vintage car witht he sign above it reading "This car is believed to have been used by Adolph Hitler. The THING is, we can't prove it". Of course, this part of the attraction would not be complete without a cheezy mannequin of Mr. Hitler in the back seat. He looks very crabby. Also of note is the history of torture tableau--carved wood statues of folks getting branded and put to the rack and suchlike--which would look great in my living room. The various rusted farm implements and broken matchlock rifles are also somewhat inexplicable, and thus, amusing. The giftshop is pretty good, too. One day, I hope to decorate my office witht the complete line of Collectible Hillbilly Figurines.

The Big Texan, in Amarillo, Texas. Hoo-BOY! This place is a living nightmare for any number of kinds of folks--vegetarians, animal rights activists, snobs of every stripe, people who don't care for stuffed-rattlesnake-head keychains--but since I am none of these, I was in heaven. I swear, if I lived in Amarillo, I would be at this place every day. I hardly know where to begin. The obvious draw is the 72-oz steak challenge. I guess you all know the drill from King of the Hill and Simpsons episodes; eat the 5-pound steak, get the sucker free. But not just the steak! Oh, no, to win, you must consume a full steak dinner (giant hunk of meat, baked potato, salad, shrimp cocktail, roll) in one hour, without standing up, leaving the table, or puking. On a stage in the middle of the dining room. With people taking pictures of you. Little kids pointing a laughing. I'm telling you, gang--you have no idea how entertaining this is to watch. Lisa and I sat there for two hours, watching people try to do this, criticizing various techniques (it seems that slow and steady wins the race yet again. The last guy we saw make the attempt also seemed to have the winning trick of just making like he was eating dinner--none of the dogged, determined air of the other guys who tried; this fella was joking with his friends and people who came up to cheer him on, and just seemed to be plain enjoying himself. Big fella, about 60, looked like an old Marine. I wish we could have stayed to watch him. I'll bet he did it.) As much as I would have liked to have seen someone actually win, it was pretty fun to watch folks fail, too. This one frat-boy-type kid was especially amusing; he attacked that cow like it was a race, and about an eighth of the way in, just put his head down on the table and shook with shame and pain. Comedy! One of the regulars there told us that he had seen a 12-year-old girl actually win. Words cannot express how much I wish I could have seen that.

As if this wasn't enough to recommend the place, add in the animal heads lining every wall, the strolling 3-man hillbilly music band that took requests, the cute Texas-girl waitresses in cowboy outfits, the amazingly gory and disturbing Haunted Saloon Shooting Gallery and the kick-ass gift shop. My only regret is that Lisa wouldn't let me buy a miniature jackalope to put on the dash of the pickup.

If I never manage to achieve my lifelong dream of being a television horror-movie host, perhaps I'll just open up a tourist trap.


*I would like to ask you all to join me in swearing to never use the term "terrorist" again. If we just say "Bad Guys", it won't really solve anything, but it'll make life more like a comic book.