Blue Bell

The second day in Oklahoma I got baptized which you already know about.

We went to Chipotle afterward. It was my first time there and I definitely didn't know what to get because I didn't want anything there. So I got lettuce with roastred vegetables and cheese. I could've at least gotten meat.  *facepalm*

I hear great things about this chain and was surprised and nonplussed by what I found inside. The cafeteria setup reminds me of a place back home called Taco Maya which is at least 100% better. Maybe because it's not a chain and because I'm more familiar with it. Anyway, Leslie, if you're reading this, this is for you: GO TACO MAYA!

During our dinner, I learned that Phillip (one of our friends) works for Blue Bell ice cream. I was reminded of this because Heather and I are driving out of Texas right now and we just passed by some trucks with the Blue Bell logo on them. I smiled.

When I heard this, I smiled politely and nodded, thinking of Bkure Bunny ice cream which my friends tell me doesn't actually ever melt but just kind of congeals and turns into a spongy flavorless mass. They only purchase the big tubs for kids' parties. But Phillip quickly assures us that Blue Bell is at least 100 times better than the bunny stuff. Apparently his company receives letters of adoration and videos of grandkids eating a gallon of their recently deceased grandmother's favorite flavor. Therefore, I was impressed.

It was a good night. Phil and Sarah are great people.

But the night wasn't over. Nick, our uncle-ish cousin, has connections and got us a ride on a police helicopter. I was more nervous about the controls and communication inside the helicopter than actually flying in it, but everything turned out fine. Cousin Vinny, Heather and I squished in and it was a good time.

We flew over a giant cemetery.
A pilot: "No heat signatures there." Heh heh.

The next day we took a tour of the police station. It was something else. Then we drove around Tulsa in the dark and took pictures of everything we didn't get to!

The last thing we did on the way out of OK was make a pilgrimage in the falling snow with Peaches and all to a special gas station/gift shop/restaurant/soda bottle heaven called Pop's. It has a giant pop bottle out front and its glass walls are lined floor to ceiling with over 600 flavors of bottled soda. I got prickly pear pop. Heather and I bid our goodbyes to the Hondroses and moved on.

Well, I guess that wasn't the last thing to report - carrying on courageously (behind low drivers) through the slush and the filling snow, we made our way to Oklahoma city. And what do you know, the memorial museum there was closed early for bad weather.  Lots of the recommendations in the tour guides can be skipped if they're closed (like the Devil's Rope museum somewhere in Texas - totally devoted to barbed wire), but the bombing memorial isn't one of them. We stayed the night and vowed an early start the next morning.

Hotels were especially full. Nobody wanted to drive in the snow. This brought out a bit of Massachusetts pride in my sister as she expertly navigated the slippery mess on the roads. "It's not so bad," she said, "these people have no idea what they're doing." I was very proud of her.

The museum was on point. The curators used technology to make an impact rather than simply to impress, and everything was tastefully done.  For example, the exhibits barely mentioned the person at fault until about halfway through the walkthrough plan of the museum. That way, the memorial was sure to be about Oklahomans and the american spirit rather than a monument of anger against a single man.

I feel like if I was doing a paper on the event, going to the museum instead of to the library would be a good idea. The memorial left no stone unturned.