Whyyy Kansas, just why?
Honestly, there is nothing worthwhile to tell about Kansas.
I'm sorry, that's a bit rude. I did have a lovely time when I was there and even got a cute shirt from a thrift shop. But the scenery? Ugh.
Alamosa To Kansas
Alamosa was a little-bit-of-nothing town in southern Colorado. Not much there, not much to talk about. I got a gyro from a local farm to table restaurant and then cursed myself for not putting any Wave Soda in the fridge to have with it.
We left Alamosa early in the morning and started the drive to my Aunt's place in Kansas, just an hour south of Witchita. The drive would have been the most boring experience of my life if it had not been for my mom.
Unfortunately, I don't mean that she acted as a great source of joy and entertainment, but she did make a grave mistake that about gave both of us panic attacks.
We were six and a half hours into the trip, less than two hours away from petting three adorable dogs and chowing on barbequed chicken and veggies, smothered in cheese, and plopped onto a warm, toasted bun. (Can you tell I love food? And dogs?).
Since we drive a Prius, our gas gauge is slightly different. Instead of a needle that drops ever so slowly, our gas shows up as bars. I think maybe ten bars is a full tank. Well, we were down to two bars as we crept through, yet another, teeny country town, and I suggested to my mom that we stop. We had just passed the turn so she brushed aside my idea and said we would stop at the next town.
Oh mom, now why would you ever think that was a good idea?
Thirty minutes later our gas gauge had diminished to one bar and with the drop in gas came a massive jump in our stress. Like the good daughter I am, I tried to keep my cool, telling her we had at least another 50 miles on one bar, "the Prius is a hybrid so we will be totally chill".
Do you know how you can tell when someone is definitely not totally chill? When they use the phrase "totally chill".
In another circumstance, I wouldn't actually be concerned. Gas stations are everywhere. Uber exists. And worst-case scenario, we could try and flag someone down to give us a lift. Well, Kansas poses interesting challenges to all of these solutions since towns are sometimes as far as 30 miles apart from each other, and you'd be lucky to drive through one that had even a single grocery store, let alone a gas station.
At this point, I am wishing I didn't just chug a Mango Wave Soda because not only was I stressed, but now I really had to use the bathroom.
The singular, lonesome bar starts to flash and my body instantly tenses. We still have fifteen minutes until the next gas station. I hold my breath the entire drive, periodically shifting my eyes between the miles per gallon gauge and my mother's face.
As we roll up into Larned, Kansas I see the Casey's and almost cry. "WE MADE IT" I yell at my mom, a little too forcefully for normal circumstances but entirely acceptable here.
I run to the bathroom and my mom fills up the tank. We get back into the car and vow to never ever ever let the gas get below three bars.
Getting to my aunts was a sweet, sweet victory and we celebrated for the next three days as we lounged by the pool, pet all the pups, ate way too much food, and sipped refreshing Wave Sodas.