Photos from My Nebraska Dream Vacation

I've created a gallery of photos I took during my trip to Nebraska. Unlike the last several Nebraska photos you've seen here, I took these with my camera, not with my phone.

I put some of the photos in the sidebar on the left (see them?), along with a link to the gallery, but I thought I'd put a few up here as well, just to further entice you to go visit the gallery.

The Hall County Courthouse, in Grand Island, Nebraska, taken at 10:15pm (obviously). (Click photo to enlarge)

Not as good as another photo I've taken of Lincoln, Nebraska, this is the view driving toward downtown from the north. The tall building is the state capitol. Known affectionately as "the penis of the plains," it's towering shaft is symbolic of Nebraska's fertility. (Click photo to enlarge)

Perched at the tip of the capitol building's golden dome is "The Sower," a 19-foot tall art-deco bronze statue, spreading seeds over the prairie. (Click photo to enlarge)

Did you know, Lincoln has an acre of parkland for every 15 residents - more parkland per capita than any other city in the country? This is the Sunken Gardens, located near the Capitol Building. That's right, just a seed's toss from our massive phallus, the "sunken gardens" are agape in flower, welcoming any and all who care to enter. (Click photo to enlarge)

So Long, Nebraska!

The Garden Spot of Nebraska

One of the most enjoyable and miserable days of my entire trip was last Wednesday, my first full day in Nebraska. The enjoyable part involved meeting the other Indyknow Bloggers, for dinner. The miserable part involved a cruel tag-team of heat and humidity.


Both were pushing the limit of tolerability, and the Heat Index reached 117 that day. Luckily, my rental (a Buik LaCrosse) has a kick-ass AC, so the drive was no sweat.

I met Tonga at the offices of the Grand Island Daily Independent. She introduced me around and even gave me a tour of the place.


The Press - Grand Island, Nebraska, Daily Independent
After my tour of the paper, we went to dinner at Godfather's Pizza. I just want to mention, briefly, that I think Godfather's is just about the best pizza in the world - and their Taco Pizza is a masterpiece of Mexitalian cuisine.

Following dinner, we each took turns trying to help a blind woman find the Wendy's, which was about a half a block to the north. She was lost in the Godfather's parking lot. It wasn't funny, except for the fact that we all tried to help her, and we all failed. She may still be wandering around the parking lot as I type this.

Anyway, Tonga and I then moved on to drinks at a little martini bar called J. Alfred Prufrock's. Nice place, good booze, great people, crappy-ass air-conditioner. We peeled off layers and drank cocktails while fanning ourselves with the leather-bound bar menus. I had five or six Knobb Creek Manhattans. Tonga drank a couple three of her "usuals" (containing I don't know what). Our bill came to $15.50 (it was happy hour - but still... wow).

During my tour of the paper, Tonga took me downstairs to the "morgue," where they keep actual printed copies of every issue dating back to the 1880's. Spread open on a table was an issue dated Saturday, October 4, 1913 with a headline that read Hall County---the Garden Spot of Nebraska.


It was basically a very long-winded article singing (quite loudly) the praises of Hall County, of which Grand Island is the county seat. I'll upload a readable photo of the article from my camera when I get back to San Francisco. But for now, I thought I'd quote an interesting passage describing the Wood River (which flows through the southern edge of town and marked the northern edge of the island) in 1871.

It is a vast serpentine vineyard, literally festooned with wild grapes. To this delightful description might be added that in the bends of this winding river were orchards of wild plums, in their season loaded with fruit, the red and yellow of the ripening fruit with the green of the bordering trees, making a picture of surpassing beauty and loveliness while the fruit itself was most delicious to the taster. Did one wish to cross this river, there were at convenient distances bridges built by those most cunning and ingenious workmen, the beaver. Standing on either bank of this meandering stream, which with its fringe of trees lay like a thread of dark green in the lighter green of the far reaching valley, and looking across the smooth prairie as far as the eye could reach could be seen herds of innumerable buffalo feeding and fattening on the nutritious grasses. Always there could be seen flocks of timid antelope, their white flags discernible even miles distant. Occasionally would pass herds of stately elk, and bounding over the prairie were smaller herds of black tail deer, while the accompanying whir of startled prairie chickens seemed but the echo of fast fleeing footsteps. The Wood River Valley of the Platte. Before the coming of the white man, a land of fatness, a scene of primeval loveliness and beauty. To the white man and his descendants, the home of plenty, a dwelling place of contentment, peace, and happiness.

So, it turns out that Le Grande Ile on the River Platte used to be the Garden of Eden (until sometime between 1871 and 1913). It totally makes sense. You see, I've always held that three of the seven gates to hell were located there.

Steak and Eggs

I've been in Nebraska six days, now. Among the joys of being here is the fine dining. I'm not talking about eating at Chez Pompeaux, of course. But it's nice to eat the food of my people among my people.

And although I've hit three buffet/salad bars so far, I have managed to not totally pig out (every meal) while I've been here. And just to give you an idea of what I'm up against:


I admit I've eaten a little more ice cream than usual this past week. But I don't see how I've had much choice, really, considering the bowls of fresh peaches and strawberries in the fridge.

I've even pushed my personal culinary envelope while I've been here. When we dined at Chances "R" restaurant in York - which I've read is "a great place to stop between Oklahoma and South Dakota" - I ordered beef in non-hamburger form for the first time in my life. No kidding! Following a lesson in cuts of meat from my mom's beaux, Dan, I took his recommendation and ordered the prime rib. I wasn't totally confident I'd be into it, but I did know that it would be just about the best steak anyone could get anywhere, so the odds were good that I wouldn't puke it back up onto my plate.


The dim light made for a blurry camera photo, but that thing was about as big around as a frisbee and I ate (what I could) without ever needing to pick up the steak knife (just about). Holy crap. Why didn't anyone tell me how good prime rib was before now? I might even order steak again sometime. It was a damn good dinner - I mean, supper.

But by far the best meal of the trip was served right from my mom's own kitchen on Sunday night. We bought sweet corn from a woman selling the cobs right out of the back of her pickup truck. Dan fried filets of walleye he and my mom had caught themselves. My grandma made her (astonishing) potato salad. And I made garlic mashed root vegetables (turnips, parsnips, potatoes) that I accidentally put too much cream and butter in. Mom also made her seven-layer salad (that's lettuce (iceberg, of course), green bell pepper, celery, peas, cheddar cheese, bacon, and sugared mayonnaise). I think I ate ten pieces of fish. But I didn't use the spray-on butter for my corn.

Until today, when we had corn again, and I gave it a try. It tasted buttery, I will give it that!

After the big fish dinner, my brother, his gal, and I were going to go to the Hall County Fair. But that required a 40-mile drive to Grand Island, and none of us could make it to the car.

Heat Index 115

I guess I'm on a convenience store kick.

Nebraska, Here I Kum (n Go)

Well, I made it. After a hellish day of flying (complete with delayed planes and terrible, vomit-inducing turbulence that even made me queazy), I landed in Omaha for my week-long dream vacation in Nebraska.

And I made it without incident. This is a relief, you see, because I was a little bit concerned about travelling today. I expressed my concern to Jay last evening as we were following up our delicious last-night-in-Frisco meal of Vietnamese Barbecue Pork and garlic noodles with a glass of bourbon. "I hope I don't have to poop all day tomorrow," is what I said to him.

Pooping while travelling isn't usually a huge concern of mine. But I'm on antibiotics. And I don't know about you, but that has a way of making me rather fluid. "Is there a pill I can take to make it so I don't have to poop?" I asked him.

"Like Squirtz-B-Gone or something?" he quipped.

"Or Runz-Away!" I countered in a stroke of genius.

Of course, Runz-Away doesn't exist - but it should, shouldn't it? Well, we thought so, anyway. And so we proceeded to come up with a long (long) list of advertising slogans for our new product - a brainstorm that proved somewhat viral as we continued to text each other all day today with our latest ideas while I was travelling. I know you want to hear some of them.

Runz-Away - A Solid Bet!
Tell your squirts to take a hike! Runz-Away!
Give your squirts the heave-ho with Runz-Away.
Don't let diarrhea cramp your style - take Runz-Away!
With Runz-Away, you'll never stand for the trots again.

And so on...

But like I said, I made it with no untimely nor unplanned emergences. Yes, I said emergences.

And you're not going to believe this, but it was by sheer coincidence that my first meal in Nebraska, upon landing in Omaha after a full day of not eating, was at a truly Nebraskan (Czechoslovakian, no less) fast-food chain called Runza. And yes, I got a cheese Runza - and it was good. And even after eating the "Runza way," I have no need for Runz-Away. Keep your fingers crossed (and I'll do the same with my legs, just to be safe).

Right next to the Runza restaurant was a convenience store called Kum-n-Go. I'm not kidding. Really - I'm totally serious. Look, I can prove it:



Yes, that's sexual innuendo, right here on the plains, big as day. And you thought people out here in the sticks were unsophisticated!

I took that photo with my camera phone, by the way. Are you impressed with the quality? Because I am.

So, this is your correspondent, signing off for now, from the Heartland. Stay tuned for more Middle-Americana, as I see it.