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Sunday, July 15, 2007

Please a check my...... medical a bracelet.

The conference is now over, and was overall a pretty good experience for me. It was fun – a little slow to start with but I really enjoyed the poster session and met some other paeleobotanists who were lovely. The third day fossil talks were all Cenozoic, and I felt a sense of kinship not unlike what attending your first Star Trek convention must feel like. It felt good to be amongst ones own.

So on Wednesday morning after finishing up and pulling our posters down, we made our way back to our hostel to pack up and prepare to move on. Stuart was flying onto London the next day, and Lizzie and I needed to pick up our hire car early in the morning and Drive to Carbondale in southern Illinois.

At Around 7pm, we decided that we were hungry and should have ‘one last quick drink’ at Hamilton’s, the bar around the corner from the hostel. We counted on a bowl of cheese fries and a pint before resuming the tri-missionary position and falling asleep at around 9.30pm. What we didn’t count on was running into every single person we had met at both our hostel and the Dawghaus café where we had coffee every morning.

The following sequence says more than words could ever say.











*SCENE MISSING*






We all ended up at The Anvil, a great bar where we met many wonderful new people who were more than willing to provide us with all of the colours to drink. After many hours of Kath and Kim impersonations (VERY popular around these parts), we said our final goodbyes to our new friends and returned to our lodgings. I drank what I considered an adequate amount of water before hitting the hay.

Suffice to say, water levels were deemed not to be adequate on awakening. Apparently one good spew isn’t enough to cleanse ones body of the previous evenings poisons these days. In fact, if you eat Buffalo wings with hot sauce and spend a night out on the town, whatever enzymes driving the digestion reaction forward must somehow be inhibited. Instead of describing exactly what happened in the bathroom to me many, many times that day, I will instead attempt a chemical equation for the reaction that didn’t take place.

Normally

Buffalo wings + Hot sauce + Protease = firm stool + water

However

Buffalo wings + Hot sauce + 17 DRINKS = (Buffalo wings + Hot sauce)²

Two hours passed in the foyer of the hostel like two minutes. We thought we were going to die, but after a particularly good vomit I was able to convince Lizzie that I was okay to get to our rental company. After bidding Stuart farewell (who on the way to O’Hare had to vomit out of a taxi door) we got a cab into the city to get the car. After lingering at garbage can for a little to long, I rushed into Hertz and was able to extract the staff toilet key from the woman before loosing every last drop of moisture from my body. We were given the keys to our Subaru liberty, and hit the road as a pair of dried out husks. Despite the fact that Lizzie couldn’t move her neck and I couldn’t talk, she drove and I navigated our way along the mean streets of Chicago and onto the Dan Ryan expressway. Luckily, we were on the mend soon enough and ended up having a great drive after the Tylenol, MacDonald’s and coffee kicked in. Witnessed cornfield after cornfield, and generally marveled at the towns we passed through. I will never scoff at Caroline Springs ever again after seeing street after street of the same fucking house devoid of all personality (actually, yes I will – Caroline Springs can still suck my balls).

We were almost back to 100% when we hit Carbondale where our luxurious motel room was like arriving home after a 24-hour flight. Our host in Carbondale was fantastic, and we were taken out for a delicious Midwestern BBQ dinner, where we both subtly drank 14 cokes each to regain our strength.

The next morning we were shown around the local university and taken to see the sights around town. It’s a really gorgeous area, so green and lush. To a couple of botanists from Australia, the ‘bush’ in the USA just looks so strange – like it’s some kind of cultivated garden instead of a perfectly planned collection of species that have never evolved and have always been there thanks to the Divine Creator.

Anyways, around lunchtime I was unfortunate enough to develop a migraine headache. I haven’t had one for years, so it was probably something to do with the Native American burial ground were traipsing all over. I took some pills and decided to fight through it, but I was green around the gills by the time we were passing the Taco bell. So for the eleventy-hundredth time in 24 hours, I vomited in a public restroom. After that, our very kind host took me to his very kind sisters house who let me crash out on her couch for a few hours. Talk about hospitality – I introduced myself by saying “Hi, I’m Emma, and I’m going to vomit in your toilet now…”

Two hours later and I was feeling much better, so after an icecream at the Dairy Queen, Lizzie and I could drive on to St Louis, or as we like to call it ‘the Tullamarine of Southern Illinois’. After getting quite lost and stopping for directions, we were fairly pooped and were tempted to eat at Denny’s next to our motel. That was until we found directions to the nearest ‘Outback Steakhouse’…

If anyone out there is after the least Australian experience (cliché or otherwise) on planet earth, please visit the Outback Steakhouse. We are completely convinced that not a single employee has ever met or even heard the voice of an Australian. We were after a bit of a laugh at the tacky décor, silly menu items and if we were lucky, a poor impersonation of Crocodile Dundee. What we got was service provided as if it was a recorded message – no matter how many times we told them that we were Australian or tried to engage them in small talk the waiters had no idea what we were talking about. They didn’t even know what I meant when I showed them my ‘coalition of the willing and PROUD!!!” tattoo. Or my George Bush shaped birthmark. There wasn’t even a ‘Kangaroos next 10km’ sign on the wall. Just the odd Tina Arena song on the stereo. For shame.

After a hollow experience like that, we were on the road early and ready for more cornfields. How can the world need so much corn? It’s incredible. Here are some corny highlights.


Even Cowgirls get the blues... on the wrong side of the road.



"Delicious corn. Haven't had that in a while."



The Bloomin' onion. Traditional Aussie tucker mate.



"I love you Thelma. I love you Louise..."

Heading to Nashville on Wednesday for more superfun with super friends. I’m having the best time, and I want you to know that you are all dead to me now.

Regards,

Emma.

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3 Comments:

Blogger The Cobb Mob said...

i can taste the sympathetic liver bile from across the specific ocean - oh yes, I do beleive in alcohol poisoning - a highly commended for your efforts.

migraine? who were you kidding?

July 15, 2007 4:17 PM  
Blogger The Cobb Mob said...

I too went to an Outback Steakhouse on a recent trip to the good old USA. I didn't realise it was meant to be an Australian resturant until I got in. My experiences were much the same as yours.... I did love my Kookaburra wings though. Yum Yum Yum.

Pete

July 15, 2007 5:11 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

While we both may have been vomiting that day, I must protest that mine was due to an unfortunate case of food poisoning.

After your departure I made my way to the Dawghaus Cafe to make my final farewells. Our erstwhile friends from the evening before had called in sick however, and to console myself I ordered the lemon gelato. I'm certain this was the cause of my later woes.

And unlike your "vomiting into a bin", I delicated contained my regurgitations in my mouth and demurely gestured for the taxi to pull over at the nearest stop in a manner reminiscent of the Queen Mother touring past adoring crowds.

July 22, 2007 8:43 AM  

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