I believe people. So shoot me.
But when you're the kind of person who drives miles out of your way to sit on a huge sturgeon with a saddle, or to visit the Jello Museum, or to pay your respects to the guy who came up with the idea of putting holes in donuts (as I did on this very day!), well, you're probably a bit more inclined to believe silly things.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it probably makes you a bit more inclined to be duped.
My friend who owns a small dog who convinced me that she had a herd of Great Danes can testify (among others).
What can I do. I'm like that.
[Notice to friends reading this: This is NOT, I repeat NOT, an invitation to sell me a piece of swamp land or convince me that you have alligators in your damp basement. You're on notice.]
Well, it happened again today.
Maybe not. Maybe I just wasn't looking in the right place.
See? See how persistent it is? The lingering "hey, it's possible!" has its own special force.
Lucky for me, I got a picture of the guy. Here he is.
I ask you. Doesn't that look like the kind of place where you could gain valuable information about local scenic attractions? Right! I thought so too!
So there I was, sitting in front on that very same bench, proudly displaying (and drinking) my old fashioned tiny ice cold bottle of Coke (mmmm), right within spitting distance from...well, we'll call him the POI ("person of interest"), not to be confused with the taro substance, please.
So we gets to chattin', the two of us. He asks if I'm on vacation. I tell him I'm on my way home. He asks if I've been over the new bridge (which is effin' spectacular, btw). I say yes, on the way there, and I'm just about to go over it again. He says I could go up in the observation tower. I ask him if he's done that. He says "three times". It all sounds good so far. There is a new bridge. It does have an observation tower. See? It's not like I don't check people out or anything.
Then he says that when I go over the bridge from this direction, I can see (and possibly photograph) the giant football. (do I have a sign on my forehead that says I stop at and photograph ridiculous things?) I got excited, real quick. "Where?" "Where can I best see it?" "Is there room to pull over?" "Is it possible to take a picture?" (Answers: On the other side of the bridge, look "up there". At the end of the bridge. Sure, if there's no cars behind you. Yup, if you have a red light." (See? There WAS a stoplight at the end of the bridge! And it WAS red! See? He's telling the truth!)
He says "You've heard of Bigfoot. Well, we have a Big Football." I laugh. (I still believe him)
He says that a guy came through on a motorcycle, and he told him about the giant football, and the guy on the motorcycle didn't believe him, but then he went across the bridge and he saw it and he took pictures and he came back to say that he actually saw it, even though he hadn't believed it. (See? Testimony!)
He says that he hopes more people photograph it, because one of these days, with the weather and all, it's not going to be there anymore, and it's good to have proof that it was there. I nod, thinking that's true, it's important to preserve all weirdness, and also thinking all the while that this is my big opportunity to provide a new entry for Roadside America, the website (and app!) that guides oddball travelers to...well, sturgeons and giant strawberries.
|Summer 2010 - Strawberry Point, Iowa|
So.......across the bridge I went (though not before shaking the hand of the POI, since it is important to properly thank anyone who provides you with valuable travel information). I looked "over there" and "up there" (wishing I had asked for a bit more detail). I pulled over (there was a place). I stopped again at the red light. I looked around. Trees. Granite. Bridge. Water. View. Football????
Alas, dear readers, I fear I have been taken for a ride. (or again, maybe not, maybe I just missed it. Hey, it's POSSIBLE!).
Wait. I figured it out. Maybe the football is only visible if you go up in the observation deck of the bridge. Hmmmmmmmm. I'm going to do a little googling. (yeah, it's a verb)
Well, gosh. THERE it is. I don't know how I could have missed it. Musta been the angle. Or the treeline. Or something. Wow. Nice football.
Look for it next time you go to that part of Maine. It's big. You can't miss it. If you do, ask the guy at the Fort View Variety store, he'll tell you. Spread it around. Tell people it's real. Take it viral. Make everyone going across that bridge look for the giant football. This is America.
One more thing. Now you know. If you're ever thinking of going on a road trip with me (I love me some road trips), you now have fair warning. This is what my road trips are like, whether they are two days or two months long.
I chase goofy stuff. I believe people. And I love stories.
Don't say I never did nothin' for ya.