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Draplin Design Co., North America



Rise and shine, crack of 10:45 AM. Ahhh, a “good start” to the day.

Headed over to that Field of Dreams right away. Ryno brought some gear down from Minne. We threw the ball around, hit a couple balls, checked out the cornfield that takes you heaven and oogled the vast array of trinkets for sale at the two giftshops.

See, the field is owned by two parties. One half is owned by the family that lived on the farm and the other half is owned by some investor group or something. So that means you have two driveways leading up to the field, two giftshops and powerlines separating the field in two. Surprising, actually.

Field of Dreams 01 | Field of Dreams 02

Snapped some more photos once we wer done playing catch:

428. “Field of Dreams Morning, no.01”
429. “Field of Dreams Morning, no.02”
430. “Field of Dreams Morning, no.03”
431. “Field of Dreams Morning, no.04”
432. “Field of Dreams Morning, no.05”
433. “Field of Dreams Morning, no.06”
434. “Field of Dreams Morning, no.07”

We left the field right around 2pm or so, heading south towards Des Moines. Took a little detour in Cedar Falls, the proud birthplace of one Ryno Simonson. After a couple turns we found the house he “took his first bath” in. (Prob’ly his last too.) Quiet little neighborhood that brought back some fond memories for Ryno of riding his dirtbike around the block, having a crush on the cute little townie dame down the block and playing guns with his cousin resulting in 17 stitches in the mongrel’s head.

Ryno had this to say concerning the whole ball of wax: “Lots of shit happened in that house.” And with that, we moved on.

We had big plans for Des Moines. Maybe grab a hotel, then proceed to kick the town’s ass in some cool neighborhood?

Well, we didn’t find that neighborhood, drove the entire city looking for it, found a little mexican taqueria to chow in, ate, then agreed that Des Moines pretty much sucks and hit the road south, towards Kanasa City.

We got about an hour, saw this big-ass Terrible’s sign and pulled over to call it a night.

435. “Wow, Terrible.”
436. “Hellhole Casino, Southern Iowa, USA.”

Did a little gambling, and, we’re proud to say: “We’re up.” Went in, found the roulette table, dropped a quick hundred trying to hit the big time, then, almost walked away and played a couple more hands, and, hit.

I had 15 bucks on “34” and, while the ball was spinning, said, C”mon 34! Kirby Puckett!” and, I’ll be damned, that number came up.

34 with 15 bucks on it = $525. Walked out about $325 up. Awesomeness.

Back to out hotel we went, whereas Ryno discovered a 3-inch sheet metal screw embedded into his back tire. It’s gonna be a a slow start tomorrow morning. So it goes.

Speaking of Ryno, here’s the little pile of puke he ralphed up after I hit him in the throat:

437. “Real nice.”

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