relax, see some of Mark Twain's hometown, and go for a run/do some cross training/core strength exercises. It's all fine and good if the legs are strong, but to put that power down, you have to keep your core, and the rest of your body strong. Plus, it feels good to "wake up" the other muscles in my legs by going for a run.
Finished off about half a gallon of water, and rode into Hannibal for breakfast. Somebody the day before had recommended the Mark Twain Diner, so I figured I ought to try it out. Looking over the menu, I am immediately drawn to the sausage biscuits with gravy. Oh yes. I ordered that, and set about chugging water and coffee... eventually compelling my waitress to simply leave a pitcher of water on the table for me. Then, out of the kitchen, my plate of sausage biscuits and gravy arrived... In short, it was glorious. So good, in fact, I didn't even pause to take a photo. The sausage was fantastic, the biscuits were buttery and soft without become soggy under the gravy, and the gravy... oh, the gravy. While my arteries screamed for mercy with every bite, there was a delightfully contradictory airiness to it - almost as though it were whipped gravy. Usually the gravy is heavy, ready to congeal if you don't eat it quickly enough, but this, this was perfection! I'm sure my breakfast was something in the neighborhood of 2,000 calories, but it was worth every bite. Bravo to the cooks at the Mark Twain Diner.
After breakfast, I grabbed an americano at the cafe down the street, then rolled over to the grocery store for some bananas, and to restock on bodywash. After that, I headed back to the campground where I digested for a little while, did my laundry, and then set about doing a little workout. Ran for 25 minutes at about 7-8 minute pace, then did abs, pushups, pullups, and lunges. Definitely felt good to work the whole body, and get some different muscles firing.
After showering, I put on normal clothing for the first time in what felt like a while, and texted Chris that I was coming down to Kerley's. In the summer, every two weekends, Hannibal has what's called 'Down By The River'. Essentially, it's a venue down by the river(clever, I know), and they have beer tents set up, and bands playing. Anyhow, I figured after eating dinner at Kerley's, I hit Down By The River, and then Chris had some ideas for the after party, so I cruised into town.
For dinner at Kerley's, I decided on buffalo chicken strips to be mildly healthy after my artery clogging breakfast. I then polished off a couple Shock Tops, which is a somewhat local wheat beer... and then had another. By this point it was about 8:30, and Chris wasn't off yet, so I decided to go check out 'Down By The River'. The band was pretty marginal, but as we'd all had a few beers, they actually weren't too bad. Anyhow, after watching for about 30 minutes, and being disappointed that the Budweiser tent(the only beer option) wasn't serving regular Budweiser(basically a crime againnst humanity), I headed back to Kerley's. The manager introduced me to the owner of Kerley's who was clearly already enjoying his Friday night, and putting some songs on the digital jukebox. I asked what it took to put in a request, and he said, "Hey, it's all yours... come have a beer when you're done." I look, and he's left $50 in credits on the thing. Score. I decide to be a smartass and divert from the country/rock that'd been playing all night, and selected all of my favorite hip hop/rap/electronic... Now, these Missouri folks may like their music white as cornbread most of the time, but I swear, the party got going, and people started dancing after I took over DJ duty. Unfortunately, just as things got going, Chris got done with work, and informed me that one of his friends who is a bartender 17 miles up the road in Quincy, IL had invited us up. If Hannibal is Boston, Quincy is New York City. I figure what the hell, why not.
We jump into Chris' Chevy Monte Carlo SS - which he'd modified with a big block monster of a motor that rumbled with anger when fired up... so much so that his ex-girlfriend Amanda who waitresses at Kerley's came over and asked us where we were going. From what I gathered, it was a dramatic breakup... but somehow, Amanda still wanted to take a moment to express disapproval over our plan to head out of town. She then said, "Chris, you know no matter which one of you is driving that they're going to pull you over, right?" Chicks... anyway, we roll out of town, gas up the monster(that motor sucks down fuel like nobody's business), and in 20 minutes, we're rolling into Quincy. We pull up to a fairly average looking bar, and go inside. Before I know it, the bartender has shots in our hands. Uh oh. And then another. I then realize they have my old friend PBR in the cooler behind the bar, so I ease off the throttle and have one of those. Then the bartender and Chris insist that we have to do their version of an Irish Carbomb. Except here, on the border of Missouri, it's Miller Genuine Draft with a floater of orange juice, and then get this, a shot of Amaretto dropped in. I looked at them both and said, "Look, I'll drink anything, but you've got to be kidding, right?" Nope. I figure hey, when in Quincy, do as the, ah, well, whatever. We toast, and then chug the concoction. Surprise, surprise, it tasted good. Like an Orangina, of all things. Who would have thought?
Anyway, I look over, and see a refrigerator with the biggest container of Miracle Whip I've ever seen... I was honestly amazed. So, I walk over, and pick the thing up, holding it above my head like a trophy for all to see like, when suddenly, a booming voice behind me says, "Put that down." Rut roh. When you're in a strange place, and somebody is that serious about you putting down the Miracle Whip, you don't argue. I put it back on the fridge, and turn around, to see this MASSIVE guy sitting at a table behind us. I go over and apologize, and find that he's the owner of the place. I asked him if he was sure he didn't want to turn his bar into a Miracle Whip slip-n-slide, and he assured me he did not, but said that he was glad I was having a good time. Amen, brother. As I hadn't paid for a drink all night, I assured him I was indeed having a fantastic night, and told him I rather liked his bar, which seemed to please him. He then proceeded to tell me about all the work he put into it, expressing great pride over his new, laminate floors. Anyway, a couple drinks later, and it was closing time, which in Quincy = time for late night. By this point I stopped wondering about when I was getting back to my tent, and instead focused on not doing anything too stupid.
We leave the Monte Carlo(neither Chris nor I are in any shape to drive at this point), and get into the bartender's car. The next place we go to is called something ridiculous, and is made up like a club, except it seems nobody is there. Wrong. There is a patio outside - a very nice patio, oddly enough, with heat lamps, etc, and it turns out this is where everyone had congregated. Why? Cornhole. Or beanbag toss. Whatever you want to call it, there were four sets, and EVERYBODY congregated inn this area. If not for lack of physical space, I think this would do quite well in NYC. Anyway, after an hour or two of this, I'm beat, and it's time to go... except, go where. Chris says, don't worry, we're sleeping at bartender's house. Um, okay. First though, we make a stop at Hardees for munchies, where I ordered two cheeseburgers, but not after seeing a truly ridiculous sign that would fly only in a place like Quincy, IL/Hannibal, MO:
After this, we go back to bartender's house. At this point, I am completely exhausted, and ready to pass out, but they want to play cards. I say no, but am forced to drink a couple more shots, at which point, some guy comes to the door, scowls at Chris and I, and drops off a dog. Turns out this is her husband, whom she is separated from. Weird. At this point, I tell them I'm going to sit down on the couch, and not 10 second after sitting down, I'm fast asleep.
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