Omaha, Nebraska. The quietest city on earth. It was odd, really. There were people, cars, animals...but nobody made a sound. I even turned down my music because I just felt like a disruptive negro. It was pretty, but seemed like a terrible place to spend life. However, I got a belly full of red meat from Dovers Steakhouse, because #OmahaSteaks. I was not disappointed.
It was hard getting it together to leave Omaha. We were exhausted from lack of sleep at tiny house and fought ourselves to even come to Sioux Falls. We tried to get day rates at hotels....fail. So, we had to make the 3.5 hour trek which produced some stereotypical sights on the road. Horses, grass, construction, hitchhikers, etc.
Sioux Falls was the landing spot. Butter. That's about it. We rode passed a pickup basketball game and there were no black people on the court, just to give an idea of what kind of place this is. There was a black working at Wing Stop, however.
Being in South Dakota confirmed my belief that there is no reason to be South Dakota. Moving on to these stoned white men.