At the grocery store, I felt the holiday season rear its head for the first time. The coffee cups had garlands and ornaments printed on the side; wreaths were hung on the walls; the store radio played Rudolph (B-tier carol). And, of course, it was chilly. I love this part of the year, even the days shortening. I think it forces us inside to reflect and regroup. I have been reflecting for the past three months, however, and worry about overreflection. I distracted myself with coffee. This tends to work.
Some highways in Missouri aren’t numbered, but rather are lettered. On my way toward the Ozark Plateau, as the plains gradually became hillier, I passed routes K, Z, N, F, CC, and O. These are supplemental highways, connecting larger and more “important” roads. It took the entire trip to Clinton to get used to them. Once I was in town, I pulled into the CVS to use the restroom and realized I should get my COVID booster. I trotted back to the car to get my vaccine card from the safe, which is hidden in the car’s [REDACTED]. I was perturbed to find I could not remember the three-digit combination to open the safe. I tried numbers with meaning, abbreviations of my normal PIN, and the funny numbers. Nothing. I suppose I’ll have to brute-force it once I get home.
I’ve been relatively fine after past vaccinations, but I figured I ought to have a full stomach just in case. I went to a Mexican restaurant down the street and was disappointed. The Southwest has spoiled me. I hit the road grumpily, in search of a better meal. I darted through Springfield and soon pulled into Branson, the Tacky Roadside Nexus of America. Branson is confident in its tastelessness, which I suppose is an asset. But the roadside attractions lack charm or genuine weirdness, instead catering to the lowest common denominator that is the American tourist. The Hollywood Wax Museum! Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Vaguely-themed attractions offering vague entertainment! Meh. I could just be too young for the town—at the barbecue restaurant where I picked up dinner, the average age was seventy-three.
The benefit of Branson is that its hotels are cheap in the off-season. I booked a very serviceable room for fifty dollars. I’ll sleep off the vaccine and head somewhere more to my liking tomorrow.
One of my friends from Prudential days lives in Missouri. She is a herp person and has gone to Branson for frog conventions. Another thing Branson is known for, I suppose. So when I think of Branson, that’s what comes to mind. As you said, you might just be too young for the town if you were not overwhelmed with what the town has to offer. Glad you got your Covid shot. You might also consider getting a flu shot. I’ve been told the flu this year is competing strongly with Covid when it comes to bringing people down. I wonder if you have any masks with you. I’ll bet people wearing masks are few and far between wherever you have been. Be well! Love, Grandma