Utopia

I was startled awake in the pitch black of the night to a mad dog barking right outside my tent. Great. Judging from the shrill pitch of its annoying battlecry, I guessed it was a weiner dog or a pup of that stature. I was barely awake and my mind wasn't quite functioning but I do recall looking out of the screened-in tent to see a person hovering over me a few yards away.

"Gary?" said the shadow.

"Hu-wha? Who's that?" I sleepily responded.

The person darted off calling the dog to follow. It ran around the building two more times, tempting me to go out and hit it with a rock. Then, the barking became more and more faint until I was unconscious again. Sorry but when I'm disturbed from my slumber... I have the urge to kill.

Eventually, I woke up to the sun beating down on me. I attempted to go back to sleep but I just kept sweating more and more. Finally, I got up, slowly packed my stuff and was on the road around 10. There was a detour that added who knows how many miles (10?) and that was a tad maddening. I was heading toward Chanute, KS. The humidity made every pedal feel like I was consuming all of my energy. 

In Chanute, I went to a McDonalds where I guiltlessly consumed all the fountain drinks the establishment had. Additionally, I had a quarter pounder and fries, which fortunately did not not taste very appeasing. Maybe I'm getting healthy. Maybe. After the lethargic acids and fats made their home in my stomach, I decided to check out the Martin & Goa Johnson Museum.

What an intriguing story. Martin and Goa Johnson grew up in Chanute, KS and married when she was 16 and he 22. They lived an incredible life of adventure, filming the wild of isolated villages and peoples in Africa and Asia. During the 1920's and 30's, these movies were huge! The first one that catapulted them into the public eye was a journey into the Solomon Islands where they lived with a group of cannibals. It was pretty cool stuff. Unfortunately, Martin died in '35 from a plane crash. Goa died from a heart attack at the age of 58. And so is life.

Eventually, I left Chanute at 330 and took an alternate route to the next town of Benedict; a distance of 20 miles or so. Heat indexes were up to 100* and hell, it felt like it. Delirious for some cold water, I decided on a whim to stop in the extremely small town of Benedict (pop. 66) to get something cold. I spotted a small store as soon as I entered. 

As I stepped into the air conditioned building, I breathed a sigh of relief. Immediately, a man stood up and hurried over to me. "I bet you're hot. I got a whole refrigerator over here of cold waters for cyclists free of charge. We got jell-o and pudding snacks in here too. Now, first things first, we need to get your sugar back up. Come over here to this freezer. Take your pick of ice cream from here."

....

......

What was this place I had stumbled upon? Had I died and gone to heaven? I was so overwhelmed. I sat down at the table with this man and other woman as I began to dig into all my snacks. I met Joe and his friend Carol. I'd planned on biking pretty far that day but the prospect of "an air conditioned room, free supper, breakfast, and a hot shower" lingered in my head. It wouldn't go away. I relinquished to the idea. I agreed to stay the night.

As with all utopias, things were... strange. I'm not about to bash the hospitality of Joe because it's amazing but there was apparent issues that made me uncomfortable. When we left his store and went to his home, things just got more strange.

At Joe's home, there is a much older woman with amputated legs who isn't the most open or kind woman. Joe is 71, served in the military, used to be a criminal all his life but has now completely reformed to Christianity. I've come to learn that his friend Carol doesn't know Joe all that well so I hope she shares my level of anxiety. (Update: a subtle sentence before bed by Carol singled me out when she said, "Yeah, that went bad when they took my kid's because I was in a 'cult'). 

Shit, guess it's just me.

Now, there's no danger. It's kind of like I'm surrounded by mental illnesses. It's difficult to listen to Joe's unceasing conversation, religious ramblings, and unending list of stories. It's not that the stories aren't interesting but the man doesn't listen to anyone. It's eerie, it's like he's talking to himself. There's never any display of emotion to any of these stories. My intuition has him almost directly balanced between a rambling madman and a genius.

The older woman Sue is also a profoundly religious Christian. Both of the two are absolutely convinced of an apocalypse within "4 years". They don't drink the town water (this actually had a logical reasoning) and interpret the bible literally. 

One moment that made my blood boil and almost triggered a conflict was when Sue frowned at the fact I'd been to a McDonald's. Preparing to sympathize with the food quality issue I said, "Don't support McDonald's either? Yeah, I really should stop going."

"Well, they support Disney."

"What's the matter with Disney?"

"Joe, did you hear what Ralph said?" she said to the man who was lost in translation. She turned back to me and said, "Disney supports homosexuals".

I cringed with hurt at the statement. I wanted out. The food on the table no longer looked as good. As I got myself under control, I reasoned in my head that it wasn't there fault. Now, again, I need to reiterate things weren't bad.

The longer I've stayed with Joe the more I've begun to appreciate him, sympathize and even worry for him. 

He lost his wife 6 years ago, which has been the only thing I've seen draw a noticable display of emotion, and a slight glossing-over of his eyes. The subject changed quickly. 

Also, Sue whispered to me, and Joe expressed more than once his mother's long fight and spiral into dementia. I believe Joe is absolutely terrified of that happening to him. The sad part is... and I really hope I'm wrong, but the signs look rather... apparent that this is occurring. 

From a humble and hospitable viewpoint, it doesn't get any better than Joe. He's the most charitable man I've met on this entire trip. I feel bad saying these things but my conscience has been... struggling today with different views and... issues. I don't mean for that to cloud the incredible individual Joe is. He's amazing. I'm just worried about him.

Tomorrow's anew. The temperature will be back to normal. The sun will rise. The dew will dissipate. 

And I will continue to my next destination. 

My brain is frying.

Central African Art at the museum. The bottom floor was dedicated to the art of all of Africa, this being Central Africa.

           Martin and Goa Johnson: my long lost relatives.

One of Joe's vehicles; a school bus he uses to take Sue places.

Sue and Joe on the right as we prepare for sleep.