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Day 1: Le Mars to Perry
Last year, my friend Shawnda and I overscheduled our annual road trip. This time, we want to wander more, in a place where we're unlikely to get overscheduled. But after studying western Iowa on the map, I'm worried that we won't find anything to do at all.
Which isn't to say there hasn't been excitement already. Late the previous afternoon, we flew into Omaha, Nebr., from opposite coasts and drove north through the Loess Hills. We ate loose-meat sandwiches called Charlie Boys at Miles Inn in Sioux City, Iowa, and continued on to Le Mars. We were enjoying ice-cream sodas at the Blue Bunny ice-cream parlor when the power went out. (Thunderstorms.) The gaggle of Lindsay Lohans on staff went into an instant freak-out. Then one dropped a glass, and they took it up at least two notches. We left money on the counter and went outside--where it was bright enough to read The Da Vinci Code, if not something more challenging.
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I digress. That was then, and now we see nothing within a hundred-mile radius. On the way into Cherokee, we pass a sign advertising indoor archery. I've hit two people with darts in my life; I'm not sure about raising the stakes. We discuss it over breakfast at Carey's restaurant. Shawnda says she'll risk it.
"Where are your bows?" asks the friendly proprietor, who built the archery range next to his house. We thought it would be like bowling, where you can rent equipment. He encourages us to buy bows ($1,200 and up), pointing out that archery is a good family activity. If he only knew that I'm fighting the urge to rescue the plastic target animals leaning against the wall.
In Ida Grove--where, for some reason, many buildings look like castles--we realize we're driving behind a truck pulling a beat-up car. "Demolition derby!" says Shawnda. "Follow him!" When the truck stops for gas, I send Shawnda out to charm the driver. She learns that the derby will be at the fairgrounds at 2 P.M.
Six cars are positioned around a ring of mud, and then they're off, running into each other at what seem like fairly slow speeds. The crashes aren't quite as satisfying as when a car sprays spectators with mud, but we're thrilled anyway, cheering when there's a good crunch.
We go southeast--or east, then south, then east, then south (driving in western Iowa is like being on an Etch A Sketch)--to Jefferson. This weekend is the Bell Tower Festival. Shawnda poses as Fay Wray in the King Kong cutout, and we briefly watch Jason the Juggler. On the ride up the 162-foot Mahanay Bell Tower, the elevator operator says that with the view, she can keep an eye on her kids.
The one reservation I made was at the wonderful Hotel Pattee, a big, beautifully renovated hotel (alas, it has since closed). A wedding reception is being held in the lobby, and during our splurge of a dinner at the hotel, we have a great time admiring the dressed-up guests as they arrive. Afterward, we test out the old-fashioned, two-lane bowling alley in the hotel's basement. It would be unchivalrous to note the score.
Food