Milton R. Abrahams Branch, Omaha, Nebraska

The one and only picture I took of South Dakota: Glacial Lakes
Rest Area, near Rosholt, northeast corner of SD.

Unfortunately, South Dakota was just a pass through state for this trip. Earlier in my planning, before the altitude sickness and headcold extravaganzas, I'd wanted to visit Deadwood and Mount Rushmore, but I ended up cutting both to save time and anxiety. Alas, I only got to see South Dakota as it whizzed by at 75 mph. Pretty. Rainy. Also flat.

The main highway from Fargo to Omaha, Nebraska (I-29 South), also took me into Iowa, which I had not expected, thus causing a minor mental commotion until I was able to pull over and double check my route. It was a very nice drive, but as this trip was winding down to a close, my single minded ambition turned from exploration to hibernation. I was ready for a break.

I can't breathe it's so much good.

But one last library for the road, shall we? And this was a real humdinger, a wild child, the squid in a family of cats. A library to remember.

The Milton R. Abrahams Branch of the Omaha library system was built in 2688 in honor of the Great Ones, William "Bill" S. Preston and Theodore "Ted" Logan. You can easily identify the building's point of origin in both time and space by the glass pyramid skylights that festoon this broad, shining ship of learning and most excellence. Not one single inch of its cool lines and sharp corners is bogus.

"Sunburst," 1988, Harry Bertoia, steel, gold & malevolence.

To further prove its righteousness, you only need enter the main foyer, where a massive, spiked dandelion floats precariously above your head. I stood there agape. There were no words. None. This thing is just. Just. I don't know what? Insane? Magnificent? Perilously pointy? Extremely dangerous?? I imagined it suddenly coming undone to drop with murderous speed on the unsuspecting heads standing below it. A terrible, gruesome, wildly absurd way to die, I'd surmise, by golden dandelion. A one in a billion death.

Once past the grand and terrifying foyer, patrons enter a wide and plentiful space, generously outfitted with floating Circles of Mystery, a clear nod to the space alien contractors who constructed this 27th century ode to the wyldest of stallyons. As road tired as I was, I could not have felt happier. This stunning structure, this phenomenal freak.

Just to the left of the circulation desk/main bridge was a display in honor of the upcoming Day of the Dead, with astronaut John Glenn prominently featured. If this place wasn't a lost spaceship, it certainly was a portal. I mean. What more evidence do you need?

Library Gerbil!

I had very little time to spare in the Milton R. Abrahams branch library, but I made the most of it. I grabbed a desk near the back and worked on a future entry, typing like mad to catch up to the forever lagging timeline. After less than an hour, library staff announced the closing countdown, so I packed up and headed toward the door. On my way out I visited the gerbils on display (science experiment? harmless pets? the aliens?) and gave the Deadly Dandelion the widest berth possible. I really do wish I had more time to spend in this library—not only did it have nonsensical ovals and circles abound around the entire interior, the back window walls were curved, my most favorite extraneous flair.

But time was out and I was on my way back to Wichita the very next day. I still had one seriously sad dinner (O! Boston Market, what hath become of you?), a good night's rest at my last AirBNB, and 330 miles to go.

Some postmortems to come in the very near future, dudes.

Curvy.

Nebraska!