After a doggie play date, a great dinner, and a good night’s sleep at a friend’s place in Columbus, I felt ready to take on the road. However, I quickly witnessed a bad omen for my cross-country trip: On the road to Cincinnati, where I was going to meet another friend for lunch, a roadside billboard asked: Are You Ready for Hell? And it wasn’t even the welcome sign to Kentucky (I kid, I kid).
By the time I hit Indiana, damned if it wasn’t beginning to feel like hell on earth. I stopped in the Hoosier National Forest to walk Sage, but as beautiful as the Oriole West Trail was, with its hardwood forest and natural marsh, it was too steamy to go for longer than a 20-minute stroll.
So I made a second pet stop at Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial, which Sage thought was good – for him to poop on. Luckily, no one saw this display by the devil incarnate, including the period re-enactors, whom I pitied immensely; I could just jump back into my car, but they would need to travel through time to reach air conditioning.
When I crossed into from Indiana to Illinois, my windshield provided insectual proof that the fourth sign of Armageddon was present. I could barely see through the swarm of bug entrails to get to my campsite, where I was anxious to settle in and relax after a fiery first leg.
However, I was quickly reminded that the Apocalypse was indeed upon us when I saw the flooded campground and the three ticks that immediately latched onto my legs, despite the long pants I sweated through as I set up camp. As I tried to fall asleep, I was reminded that not even tents in the 21st century come with A/C.
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