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Published: January 13th 2008
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Posted by: Onaxthiel: Hannibal, Missouri. A city named, for some reason, after a Carthaginian general who nearly smothered the Roman republic in its crib. No one ever names their city's after Scipio for some reason. Perhaps people really like Hannibal's' elephants. I know that was the part about his story I remember from when I was small. Missouri has no elephants, this city is made famous by a young man named Samuel Clemens who grew up there. This being the towns greatest claim to fame, you can't go more than a block in any of the business areas of town without seeing a Mark Twain reference. The Mark Twain motel. The Becky Thatcher Inn. Aunt Polly's family restaurant, Injun' Joe's Bar and grill...the list rolls on. The remains of the old Mark Twain memorial bridge, dedicated by FDR, (cough, COMUNIST, cough) stand overlooking the street where Clements lived with his mother and father. A private museum shows off the families home, a replica of the home of Twains inspiration for Huckleberry Finn, and lots of explanations of how he took his stories from things that had happened in his life in Hannibal.
After Hannibal, we headed towards St. Louis, home
of the big arch that perfectly replicates half a McDonald's sign, and one of my favorite NGO's, (their lack of UN recognition not withstanding.) the Zombie Squad. I had put out some feelers to see about meeting up with some of these intrepid hunters of the unliving, and was feeling hopeful about running across them in the evening.
Driving into town we discussed how to find the gateway arch, knowing only that it was near the waterfront. Fortunately, once you are in the neighborhood, a 630' piece of stainless steel modernist architecture is rather hard to miss. We parked along the river in a zone that usually costs a few bucks for the day. Sometimes the off season helps. Beneath the Arch is the museum of westward expansion. Here we viewed a huge film about the Lewis and Clark expedition, information on the pioneers that that moved west after their trip, and peace medals given by different presidents as gifts to Indian chiefs that agreed to sign treaties with the US government. I hope they liked them, as often it's all of substance the feds ever would give them.
Also in the medals exhibit are several animatronic displays,
with various views of the Native Americans and their relations with whites given by creepy talking dolls that claim to have witnessed the westward expansion. How they saw anything with their sightless eyes, trapped beneath the earth by their NPS captors, I'm not sure. But the national park service wants us to respect their mechanoid opinions. I wonder if the displays had alternate settings that allowed them to perform other functions than their regular spiel? What young child wouldn't want to have androids of the aged William Clark, Indian chief Red Cloud, a cavalry sergeant and a Washington artisan sing happy birthday to them like a historically based Chuck E. Cheese? Will these robots one day throw of their human imposed floor bolts and reign terror on their creators as far as their power cables will allow them wander? (Obfuscator adds: My magic eight ball tells me that all signs point to yes.)
Lastly we got to see the part of the arch that most resembles a James Bond super villains lair: the elevator pods to the top. You stand in line staring at a small (4' tall and about 2' wide) steel door with the car number you
will be riding in stenciled on it. When the door opens you see the interior of the egg shaped compartment complete with five cramped but ROTATING seats. This means you can choose which members of your car you wish to bang knees with. Genius. At the top of the Arch is an unimpeachable view of the St. Louis skyline, downtown, and the Mississippi. After a few minutes it was time to climb back in to our quasi-futuristic capsules for the return to the subterranean part of the diabolical fortress.
Next to the Arch are two other notable sites. The old Courthouse, which looks like a miniature version of the US capital under a fancier dome is across the highway, with a nearby statue of a naked runner that seems to be running west like some piece of Soviet sculpture far better suited to North Dakota and its Stalinist regime. Also near is the Basilica of St. Louis, formerly a cathedral. It was built by the French as the first Catholic church in the region, and still has a nifty parasol in the corner for the French colonial representative to sit beneath during services. On the whole, it's not really
up to the high standards that we usually have for our churches, with an almost protestant feel to its architecture. No stained glass, minimal statuary and no adornment on the outside. They do have a heck of an organ hanging out in the back of the church, though.
Soon after leaving the church we saw a lovely sunset reflected on the giant angled mirrors that make up the Arch and went in search of food and zombie hunters. The place most likely to find them was closed on Wednesday nights, so we went nearby to a place called the City Dinner which gave us a decent meal and introduced us to a local root beer called Fitz's. I would recommend Fitz's to anyone who likes the sugary substance and finds themselves in STL, as it was quite tasty. After attempting contact with the undead removal service for about an hour, and waiting for a local hot spot to open for another hour, we left for our campsite for the night. It was two hours away near the town of Columbia. Mostly an uneventful night, except for trying to find a spot to camp in the park. I thought I
had overshot our parking spot and swerved hard left to make it into the right place. Unfortunately, this was not the parking place, it was the lawn in front of the parking place. Due to the amount of snow melt in the last few days, it was really more of the BOG in front of the parking place. As soon as I tried backing out, the tires spun and I went deeper. Obfuscator and I both took turns trying to push the car out, but it just continued to sink deeper, like an X-wing fighter landed by a petulant young moisture farmer. We tried putting sticks and boards under the tires, still to no avail, and eventually decided to just let the car sit until morning when we could call a tow truck.
Lessons learned: Make better contact with Zombie Squad members prior to arriving in their town. I also need to consider adding a come along to the trunks supplies. This car really can't mount a winch, but a come along probably would have gotten us out of the mud and saved me about 80$ in towing fees. But hey, no week is complete without at least one
act of complete idiocy on the part of me or my brother.
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