Last night around 5 p.m., behind schedule of course, I hit the road for Kansas, with my brother and his friend along for the ride and trip. I knew the drive would be long, but I had never before made a straight-shot drive longer than 8 hours, and the effect certainly wore on me.
In the end, I made it, but I should probably thank my lucky stars. Around 2 a.m., somewhere between Indianapolis and St. Louis, I started to get really tired. We made a pit stop at Denny's around 1, but for some reason the chicken wraps and quesadilla made matters even worse.
Anyways, I started to semi-doze off as I meandered along the road. By semi-doze, I mean that I would close my eyes for a few seconds and then snap back to reality when my instincts kicked in. Thank God for my instincts too, because I feel like I almost swerved into a truck at some point.
Thankfully, I found a rest area sometime around 2:30 and pulled over. I feel like I immediately passed out after taking the key out of the ignition. Good thing I stayed up long enough to take the key out, because I definitely didn't need to deal with calling AAA from an Indiana/Illinois rest area in the middle of the night. I just know it would have taken forever to get service.
Woke up around 4:45, after a solid two-plus hours of sleep, and got right back on the road. A few hours later, a Waffle House sign came calling, and we obviously had to oblige. Aside from the Waffle House detour and a quick gas tank fill-up, it was a straight shot to Wichita. I don't know how I kept from getting discouraged about the magnitude of the drive - although I admit it was awful when I saw a sign reading "Kansas City - 272 miles," knowing that Kansas City was still 3 hours from Wichita, and knowing that I had to fight my eyes if I wanted to stay awake. Good thing Waffle House gives free refills on coffee.
Normally I hate highway tolls, but I had to laugh when I saw that Interstate 35 charged a toll in Kansas. No tolls through Cleveland, Columbus, Indianapolis, St. Louis, or Kansas City, at any point. But through the desolate flatlands of rural Kansas? Oh, $3.75, of course. It was just too bizarre not to appreciate.
And I have to admit, the middle-of-nowhere service area was a nice touch. I didn't dabble at McDonald's, but the clutch bathroom allowed me to change into golf clothes. I figured that showing up at the course in a chocolate-covered lime green tee shirt would not have been the best idea.
When I finally rolled into Crestview Country Club, after 19 hours of driving over a 22-hour period, I was beat. But the people couldn't have been nicer, and they genuinely seemed happy to have me there. The reception was much appreciated, and I still feel like I'm living a dream, traveling the country and covering golf.
Tomorrow, the tournament begins. Now that I'm here, at my spacious hotel desk in Wichita, it feels great to say that I made it. Somehow.
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