Tuesday was devoted solely to transportation. We drove from Fulton to Kansas City, Missouri, where we dined at IHOP and dropped Michael off at the airport. We were sad that Michael was leaving our party, but ecstatic that, in his absence, we only had four people in our rented Sebring with their attendant luggage. The extra space (in both the cab and the trunk) was luxurious. Michael’s departure also meant that I inherited the role of driver for the duration of the tour. I would have final say in regards to the radio and where and when we would stop for gas, bathroom breaks, and food, but it also meant that I couldn’t sleep, study lines, read, or do much of anything while in transit.

We reached our next destination, St. Joseph, Missouri, late that afternoon. St. Joseph would be our home for two nights, and it was probably the biggest town we had visited so far.  Missouri Western put us up at the Stoney Creek Inn, our second theme hotel (third, if you count Baldwin City, which wasn’t “themed” so much as weird). An enormous fiberglass moose was the parking lot fixture this time, surely formidable enough to battle the Settle Inn’s knight, and the building had an outdoorsy, fishing/camping scheme.

As we approached the front door, a family crossed our path wearing swimsuits and carrying towels. One little girl who looked about six or seven brought up the rear, pausing to enthusiastically ask us if we were going to the pool too. “No, not right now,” I replied. “But probably later.”

The lobby smelled strongly of potpourri, and kitschy merchandise spilled from gift store shelves. The structural members appeared to be giant, darkly stained logs, and every corner was filled with fake trees or three-foot-tall, flannel-clad bears. There was some confusion about our hotel reservations. They needed to get in touch with our contact about paying for one of the nights. A few more people passed through the lobby on their way from the pool, tracking wet footprints across the wood floor. The payment issue was quickly resolved, and we headed to our rooms to drop our belongings before hitting the town.

The first thing we did was park ourselves at a shopping center and split up. Best Buy, Borders, T.J. Maxx, Old Navy, Payless Shoe Source, AT&T, and Target were on my itinerary. I bought a shirt, a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a hat. We had time to ourselves to do whatever the hell we wanted, and it was a welcome break.

After returning to our rooms that evening, I discovered that Old Navy charged me twice for my jeans, so I headed back out to the shopping center on my own to reclaim $25. Driving around by myself with nothing to do and nowhere to be was great. The sun was setting, The Police’s “Spirits in the Material World” played on the radio, and I explored the town that would be our home for the following thirty-six hours.

While large enough for the aforementioned big box stores, St. Joseph is still a pretty small place, and I quickly became familiar with the area. I listened to This American Life as I got my bearings, discovering how the town was laid out and what businesses were in our immediate vicinity.

I stopped once to browse at a used CD store, hoping to find something to add to the meager selection I had in the car. The only other customer in the store was apparently a regular, judging from his conversation with the guy behind the counter. I don’t know why I was surprised to hear thick Southern accents, but I was. While I flipped through the empty jewel cases and digipaks, an obese woman entered with her obese preteen to select a replacement video game, as they had purchased one earlier that day, and it was defective. The mother went out to wait in the car while her son made his selection. While I scanned the tracklist of David Bowie’s Aladdinsane, he stood at the video game rack to my right, making emotive grunts and sighs as he evaluated their inventory. Just as I was reversing my decision to buy an INXS album for the one song on it that I knew, he made his exchange with a flurry of pleases and thank-yous and left. I exited the store shortly thereafter, emptyhanded, and returned to the hotel with a working knowledge of how to get around St. Joseph.

That night: Laundry, internet, and The Discovery Channel.