Illinois, you stink.

On our never-ending road trip, we had one fantastic night of camping in North Platte, Nebraska. Great campground, fire pit (Dorothy: "Fire, FIRE!!!!! LOOOOOOVE FIRE!!!"), Dorothy got to run around, cheaper than a hotel, you get the idea. It was so much fun that we decided to try to do it again the second night of our trip. Illinois seemed like the natural resting point. It would still be light enough to get set up, good weather, and there were a number of national parks coming up on the road ahead.

Stop Number One:
We journeyed down a long road through cornfield after cornfield. Finally, we came to a forest, and it took us even a little bit further. The trees were thin and tall-- none of the green foliage was even within standard ladder reach. Finally we get to the campground. It's dark. No lights. No campers. The trees are so tightly packed that you can't see far ahead. We go down a skinny dirt road to get to the actual sites. Think "The Village".


Hmmmm. We didn't think we'd sleep well here. It seemed too much like a scary movie set up. Alone in the wilderness. Thick trees. Miles from any other human life. I"ll pass.

Stop Number Two:
Luckily, there was another state park coming up. At this point, we're getting antsy. It's getting dark. We exit and drive again through miles and miles of corn fields. Not too bad. But it keeps going and going and going. Leaving civilization far behind. Finally we come to a froest not unlike the one before, on the brink of an enormous corn field. Again, no lights. No other campers. Just a lonely road by a corn field. Think "Signs".



We didn't think we'd sleep well here either. So onward we went and finally collapsed in a hotel room outside of Chicago. All I have to say is, Illinois, you stink. And you're creepy. Had we known, we might have brought a nightlight with us. Had our mommies sing us songs. Maybe a rottweiler or two. Then we would have been OK.