Children are amazing. Their imaginations and energy levels are such that they can find ways to entertain themselves in any setting. Provided, of course, they are not given the admonition to behave themselves in anyway whatsoever.

Hi. I just came from the laundromat.

While there, I considered opening my own coin-op laundry when I return. But, only because I hate to let the perfect name for such an establishment go to waste. I will call it…Riff Raff’s!

I’ve spent the day in Kansas, on a mission tonight to watch MNF – The Cowboys vs. The Redskins, in the best imaginable setting.  But first…

I began my day in one of the most nicknamed cities in the country – Peerless Princess of the Plains, The Air Capital of the World, and Doo Dah, to name but a few.

No one is sure why they call The ICT,  Doo Dah, but the best guess seems to be that someone there once thought that, “Witchita Doo Dah” sounded enough like, “Zippity Doo Dah” to make it stick.

It is called ICT because of its airport code, which it got back when the fledgling FAA, who people kept confusing with the FCC, tried to distance itself from that agency by banning codes that start with K and W…because of radio station or something.

It is “The Air Capital of the World” because it has built more airplanes than any other city and the marketing department thought “air” was much more kickass than “aircraft”. Whatevs.

There was nothing happening in that town, so I got outta Dodge.

Naturally, once I did so, it occurred to me that everyone talks about getting out of Dodge, but no one ever does it. I decided I would shut the posers up, once and for all by making good on that promise for all mankind.

In order to do that, I had to first get INTO Dodge. I saddled up the ol’ EM-50 Phantom Rambler and drove west into the sunset.  Actually, I drove directly into the sun long before it had set and got quite a headache from it.

Yes, what better place to watch Washington beat Dallas than, “The Cowboy Capital of the World” – Dodge City, Kansas.

If there is anybody at all out there who has read all of my posts, then they may have noticed that I have visited many places and added, “…Capital of the World” to it. For the record, those are all genuine appellations (nicknames, dipshit).

It is a long, straight, flat trek west from Witchita to Dodge City – I don’t know how the pioneers did it. I mean, I stopped several times for supplies along the way and to rest my weary eyes and bones. Back when they did it in covered wagons, all they had was the occasional Stuckey’s.

But, I’m not doing this to make a straight shot anywhere. I stop to see the sites that make this land great! Things like, the Hot & Cold water towers of Pratt, Kansas. (pic related)

That’s actually pretty much it. It is only 153 miles between the two cities and nothing else of note to see.

In fact, it is that lack of things to see and do that gave us these marvels. They don’t really have hot & cold. They just have water. The townsfolk painted them that way as a joke because there was nothing else to do. Apparently, the cows had already been tipped.

So, when I stopped to snap this pic, I also did my laundry.

And, in case you are looking to save a few bucks, kids – Pratt has the 15th cheapest college among those colleges polled. (pic related)

The sign changed messages. I sat there for a while. No mention of its academic ranking.

Pratt also has brick streets. (pic related)

because, apparently,  in a town this small, folks can spare the time it would take to install.

I fluffed. I folded. I moseyed on, pardner.

I made it to Dodge City with time to spare before the game started.

I went to Wyatt Earp Dr and wondered why they named the main street after a black-hatted pimp instead of a white hat like Marshall Matt Dillon. I mean, “Gunsmoke” is one of television’s classic shows. It ran almost as long as “The Simpsons” has…so far.

Wanting to fit in, I walked bow-legged to the local druggist (Walgreen’s). I ambled in and drawled to the pharmacist, “I need a new toothbrush…yella.” Don’t worry, I smiled when I said it.

He just gave me a funny look and pointed to aisle 5. A sign read, “Dental Care”. I moseyed over and got me one.

I now reckoned it was pert near time for the game. I quickened my pace into something of a mosey/trot to the nearest saloon, which is also a comedy club on the second Wednesday of every month.

The bow-legged gait was starting to hurt my upper, inner thighs, so I switched to Chester-style limp and went inside, not taking the time to be disappointed by the lack of swinging doors.

As a joke, I ordered a diet coke and asked the barmaid, who told me right away to stop calling her “Kitty”, to put it in a dirty glass. I got a chuckle out of this. But, my soda tastes funny and I’m afraid to drink it.

The game is 3 to 3, like Trixie on our wedding night – all tied up.

My goal for tomorrow is to make enough trouble that the sheriff tells me to leave but not enough to get tossed in the hoosgow. Wish me luck!

HTTR!