R15 23 The Meat Town Part 1: Peep Show!

Time for Meat

We had good news from the Deb at this point. She had secured us a place to stay in Storm Lake. Unlike the rest of the towns, we hadn't had any leads or success in securing a home stay in Storm Lake, so we sent the Deb on from Sioux City on a scouting mission. 

With our den for the evening secured, she planned to meet us in the meet town: Washta. Soon, for reasons you will soon understand, we hand to change the spelling of "meet" to "meat." And not just because the halfway town is where everyone gets some hot beef. Or maybe they do. Hint, hint. Wink, wink.

We rolled into Washta, hot and heaving and ready for some lunch. And then, the shit show truly began. First, we had to find everyone, then we had to find a place to stash our bikes, then everyone wanted different things: beer, sandwiches, water, a bathroom, and the beaver scatter began. It was as if someone dropped a stink bomb in a beaver den, just beavers darting in all directions. 

I stuck with, well, hell, who was with me? Too Much? Grandpa? I know the Mayor was there. We wandered over to the fire station to get a brat, which we ate in a line for something else. 

Then we decided to go into the beer ghetto. Boy, it was ghetto. A fenced off, empty lot, with the only shade coming from those low, heavy Army tents. Side note of complaint: Why do towns think those are a good idea? They are usually a dark color, super heavy, and you have to duck to get into them. Underneath is a seething mass of bodies, steaming up the joint. And there's never any chairs. Ugh. The worst.

After securing our beers, we retreated to slim line of shade provided by one of the buildings and hunkered down. We sent some texts, tried to get a location on the rest of the beavers, and drank our beers in slightly shady peace. 

As we were drinking, I happened to glance up towards the people in the tent right in front of us. There was a raucous group of middle-aged cyclists, drinking, and laughing, and having a great time. Then, a handsome dark haired dude, stepped out from under the tent. He was facing me, but honestly, he didn't register that I was there. He was intent on showing something to his companions. 

In a flash, he had pulled down his shorts, I suppose with the goal of showing his team something on his ass, but rather than go with the back-down, front-up method, he pulled his shorts way, way down, and out popped his rather large and attractive dick!

Hello! All of a sudden, this ragby was looking up. 

Before I could signal to my fellow drinkers, he had pulled up his shorts and turned around, leaving me with an aghast and delighted look on my face. His friends, some other dudes, realized what I had witnessed and pointed me out to Sir Penis, who looked at me sheepishly. I gave him a wave and a toast of my Coors Light. 

Welcome to the Meat Town: Population, Norman.