OVERNIGHT IN BROOKINGS
We spent our first night in South Dakota
in the small town of Brookings, home of South Dakota State
University whose motto, "You can go anywhere from here,"
suggests a resigned acceptance that this was precisely what
most graduates would do. We chose Brookings on the recommendation
of the woman at the Laura Ingalls Wilder museum in Walnut
Grove Minnesota, who, we'd been delighted to learn, played
Nellie Oleson's mum in the annual Wilder Pageant. And we chose
our hotel, the perfectly good but unremarkable $60-a-night
Hotel Brookings Inn on the outskirts of town, simply because
it seemed to be the best available.
A quick shower to wash away the dust we'd
collected on the outside, down to the bar to do the same inside,
and our first South Dakotan welcome courtesy of the hotel
barman. Within minutes we knew his name, his college course,
and his hopes for the future, and he knew where we were from
and where we were going. This wasn't someone just doing his
job or spouting the corporate "How are you guys this
evening?" (the 21st century's "Have a nice day").
This was someone who clearly liked people and was genuinely
interested in why we were visiting his town. Then there were
the two or three fellow drinkers, all local, all equally welcoming
and all warning us about the empty, featureless, never-ending
roads we faced in the morning.
And finally there was our waitress, whose
initial nervousness we put down to shyness or inexperience.
However, on bringing us our main course -- medium rare rib-eye
to share with garlic mash and corn -- she blurted out her
confession: "You know, I was sooo excited when I got
to be your server. Are you from England?." Yes we are.
"Last year I visited a friend at college in Manchester.
Do you know it?" Yes we do. In fact it's only 30 or 40
miles from Leeds, where we live.
"Do you like any Manchester bands?"
Being more than twice her age, a shared interest in the likes
of Joy Division, the Fall, and the Stone Roses was unexpected
to say the least, but yes, I said, there are loads I like
and listed a few. "Cool!" she said uncertainly,
her expression making it clear she hadn't recognized a single
one, "but what about …" and went on to name
half a dozen bands that were equally meaningless to me. Two
people divided by a common interest as well as a common language.
Next:
Brookings to Pierre>
Peter
Thody
January 8, 2006
