Counting Crows,
August and Everything After,
“https://itun.es/us/igzb”
“Omaha
Somewhere in middle America,
getting right to the heart of the matter,
it’s the heart that matters the most”
Today was a long drive across a wide state with not much time for diversions. I did luck out a bit for lunch.
Since I had no reservations anywhere the night before, there was a spate of “No Vacancies” around Chadron, before I ended up at a Super 8 that looked rough, but turned out OK.
I was refueling in Ogallala after making the southward drive through the west end of Nebraska, down from Chadron on smaller state roads. It was only 11:30, but I had had just a small cup of coffee from the motel hospitality room that morning.
Yelp was telling me the obviously empty building across the street was a good lunch choice, so I asked the service station cashier for a recommendation.
He started listing the fast food places on the other side of the overpass, but I asked for a casual sit-down or diner instead. After a moment of flustering, his red and gray mustache twitched and he conceded that the ‘Front Street place’ 2 blocks away would fit that bill.
When I got there it was obvious this passed for the local “tourist trap.” It was a row of buildings in the olde west facade style, complete with wooden boardwalk and hitching post style fences in the parking lot. The lot was a thick bed of fine pebbles instead of asphalt, which I liked. Dirt might have been more realistic, but I think someone deliberately choose the pebble option as a compromise towards customer comfort.
The Saloon and most of the other segments were closed, but the barn cafe was serving lunch. I ordered the Boot Hill sandwich, but it wasn’t anything noteworthy. Service was pretty slow, but well-meaning. They did offer pie, and as that mission parameter hadn’t been satisfied yet, I inquired further. Turns out that the pies are homemade locally, not at the restaurant, but I decided it was good enough (maybe better?). I had the rhubarb-strawberry as that seemed most on-theme with the old west. I loved the flavor, but the texture of the stalks isn’t my favorite. Pie crust was very good.
Anyway, It was not much of an event of itself, but I could imagine liking Front Street a lot more as a kid, in the heat of summer, with lots of other kids around pretending to be cowpokes.
It took another five hours of exceeding the posted speed limit to reach Omaha, but I’m staying just over the border in Iowa after dinner.
