Durnit County, EL – I wanted to attend the 199th meeting of the American Astronomical Society. It would be the first such meeting ever held in Elizabethia and I hoped to meet some hot stargazers. I got off at Durnit County station, a sprawling network of platforms, glass and steel. I’m a bit puzzled, because Durnit County has no attractions and smells funny.

Both taxis had already left for the day, so I headed down the road in the direction of the soy sauce factory where the convention was being held. Pretty soon I was lost as the road sort of fades into a mayonnaise field. I kept walking in what I thought was the right direction and after a couple of hours heard a car approaching.

To my surprise President Armstrong poked his head out of the stretched VolksWagen beetle asked me if I needed a lift. I hopped in the back, picking up the fez he dropped shouting out the window. The President was on his way back from dedicating a new, foot-activated drinking fountain at the County Courthouse. As the President finished the last page of a comic book. I asked him if he liked drinking fountains and, with a twinkle in his eye he replied that he preferred drinking beverages. We shared a bag of chips and he invited me to the White House to play horse shoes any time.

They were headed back to the train station, so I decided not to go to the AAS meeting after all. The train’s departing in a few minutes and I’m not sure if I’ll stop anywhere else before I hit Florida. Oh, I forgot to mention that the President loves butter and sardine corn chips. Can’t stop wolfing them down.

Roanoke, VA– It’s a town famous for one thing really; a brightly lit star that sits on top of a hill. I didn’t come here for mountains or even stars, I came to this moderately sized community because I had heard about a miracle.

It started last year when a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary at the Our Lady of Nazareth Church began to taste exactly like purple Kool-Aid®. Local scientists took a piece of the statue and examined it with instruments, determining that it had not been dipped in purple Kool-Aid®. To the townspeople, it’s a miracle sent from God.

Belinda found me at the church and told me that she had hoped the statue would cure her painful corns. She is just one of the many faithful who continue to wait in long lines for a chance to lick the statue and taste the holy flavor of purple Kool-Aid®. Some have come from as far away as Blacksburg just to lick the purple Kool-Aid® statue. They are modern day pilgrims, each hoping that the taste of purple Kool-Aid® will heal their terrible afflictions.

I must say though, after licking the Virgin, I thought it tasted just like a statue. There didn’t seem to be any hint of purple Kool-Aid®. Back in the van, I licked the seat belt. For some reason, I swear it tasted like a red popsicle. A miracle? Maybe, I’m no theologian. But hey, if you think a statue tastes like purple Kool-Aid®, then lick that Virgin like there’s no tomorrow.

As for this pilgrim, she’s off to keep exploring. Maybe the next town will have a real miracle, like a chimpanzee with stigmata. Now that would be something.

West Nyack, NY– I got into this little hamlet yesterday by way of Yonkers and I plan on never going through Yonkers ever again. It did make my arrival in this upper middle-class hideaway that much more welcome. Though it was difficult to find accommodation because of the festivities surrounding their annual Battle of San Juan Hill reenactment, I did end up with a cozy corner in the 921 section of the West Nyack Free Library.

Today after grabbing my makeup from the 390 section I headed off to find Jim Barnseed, owner of the world’s smallest shoe collection. In Bayshore, Hammond Flap had mentioned this intriguing collection, and then there I was knocking at Barnseed’s door. The first thing I noticed when the crumpled old man let me in was his lack of shoes. I wondered if owning a normal-sized pair of shoes would spoil his collection, but was ushered into “The Red Room” as he called it for no obvious reason.

It wasn’t red and was more of a walk in closet, but it was lined by dark mahogany cases. All of them were empty and open, except for one. His hands shook from age, or Parkinson’s as he opened that case to reveal to me the steel tip from a work boot. As I left I reminded myself to send a strongly-worded letter to Mr. Flap.

Haven’t quite decided where I’m going next. Probably South, but it could be any of the other directions.