Rural gatekeeper
Years ago, as part of a desire to visit the highest points of as many of the 50 American states as possible, we decided to climb the highest point in Oklahoma. Now, almost all of Oklahoma is flatter than a billiard table, but at the arid heart of the Dust Bowl, at the far western tip of the state's panhandle, exists a mesa where surveyors had built a small monument commemorating the state's pinnacle. In order to reach that point, however, one has to cross a strip of privately-held land. Ordinarily, we would have just skipped through the strip, but a strategically-located ranch house guarded access, so out of prudence we decided to stop and ask permission.

We banged on the front door for awhile with no response. Just then, an 18-year-old girl answered the door. She had just climbed out of a shower, and was clad in just a white bathrobe and was wearing an enormous white turban. She looked rather mystical, standing on the front porch steaming in the cold air.

We asked, "could we cross through the ranch?" She held up her hand commanding silence, leaned over, and spat out a vast amount of noxious brown juice (she was chewing tobacco). As we recoiled, she explained her parents were away in Oklahoma City and all the ranch hands were away and busy, leaving just her to decide (but since rural OK girls grow up tough, fast, and self-reliant this wasn't a problem) and that she had no problem with our request, provided we closed gates after ourselves.

I then asked about her emotional and political allegiances. This place was so far removed from the rest of Oklahoma it was actually closer to Colorado Springs, CO, Santa Fe, NM, Amarillo, Texas, or even towns in Kansas. Did she feel closer affiliation to these places than to Oklahoma City? She found the question absurd. She was an Okie, through and through, and that was that. She was happy to see us gone: a bizarre troupe on a bizarre quest asking bizarre questions.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 18:50, 4 replies)

Every story you post makes you sound even more like a creepy weirdo.

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 19:50, closed)

You make that sound like you're fishing for a friend

(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Sun 30 Mar 2014, 0:37, closed)

I went to the highest point in Kansas
and didn't realize I was there.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Sun 30 Mar 2014, 20:02, closed)

So
Where did you think you were?
(Richy_T hundreds if not thousands of dollars, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 15:35, closed)