Colorado, Nebraska, and Iowa, with the Windy City as our immediate goal. This morning, at 6AM central time, we experienced the first tragedy of this adventure as we had to part ways with the greatest bus driver ever. This uncharacteristically exuberant and good-natured southern gentleman welcomed us all onto his bus with a booming voice and no-nonsense attitude, responding to jibes from the back f the bus (jibes which are, we have found standard greyhound ettiquete,) with the following monologue: "You got somethin to say to me you come up to the the front of the bus and say it like a man. Don't holla at me like I'm yo dog. I don't play son. Don't be whining cuz yo hungry--you shoulda had some barbecue like me, woo! Also, keep your leg in yo seat because the fedrel govmint says your a fire hazard. If you light the bus on fire, then ya, your a fire hazard." This character, worthy of
Hemingway, gave us a wonderful few hours of amusement, even allowing us to weigh in on where and when we should stop for food. Speaking of Hemingway, the books that Casey and I are reading right now are very suspect: Casey is working on "Venus in Furs" which, it turns out, is the first literary work that glorifies masochism. Cool, I guess. I am reading "perfume" recommended by Diego Canales, which so far appears to be about a serial killer obsessed with killing women who where nice perfume. A slightly creepy combination, but in no way linked with Casey and my plans for the gap year...

We fell asleep last night to 300, the classic Spartan brutality a perfect greyhound lullaby.
More later when, someday, we get through the endless fields of corn.