Badlands Loop, Drive to Minneapolis 
One distinct negative (if unrelated) side effect of our visit to Bear Country USA soon surfaced: our AC unit was completely and undeniably busted. This of course was simply fabulous, as we were driving through South Dakota, where it was getting up to 100 degrees and no shade existed. Today in particular, we had to drive clear across South Dakota and much of Minnesota to arrive in Minneapolis tonight—a solid day's drive, with no AC.
Seeing the Badlands definitely presented me with the surreal feeling that I was glimpsing the sea floor devoid of water—which is exactly what it was. The distinct striations of sediment, the smooth curves of the peaks, and the vivid colors of the rock were unexpectedly beautiful, even in the oppressive heat.
Heading out of the Badlands, I was pulled over by a police officer for going a whopping seven miles per hour above the speed limit, even though I was maintaining the flow of traffic. He was going to let me off with a warning, but when confronted with my California Driver's Permit, he seized up, furrowed his brow, and brought it back with him to his car and began muttering into his walkie. Minutes later, he reported that he had radioed his dispatcher, who had called 'someone in California' and nothing had come back on my license. So he wrote me up a citation for driving without a license and saddled me with a court summons to Tadoka, South Dakota for September 16th, or he puts out a warrant for my arrest in South Dakota. He then proceeded to bring me into the car with him as he wrote up said citation, and told me his life story--his ambitions in life, his high school career, his upbringing, his college, his stint with the army, his love of power--for a good fifteen minutes. All in all, it was a strange and traumatizing moment for me.
The rest of the day was studded with frequent stops to splash our bodies with cold water, to buy more ice, to coax a breeze into the blazing car. By the time we arrived in Minneapolis, we were all absolutely disgusting, all caked in dust and dirt and sweat and grime. Poor Aunt Jodi and Uncle Steve.
It sure was heart-warming to see them again. For me, it had been a whopping 11 years since I had seen them last. I had never met any of their three kids, and all of a sudden we were staying with them. I'm sure my anxiety showed, so on top of being sweaty and smelly and neurotic, add pain-stricken to the list. I am notorious for making poor first impressions.
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