Say cheese

We thought about turning around in Rockford, mostly because neither of us could really grasp the concept of driving to Branson, Missouri in the middle of the night for no good reason, but we prevailed. I drank liters of coffee and Matt consumed an entire four-pack of Red Bull. (He also picked up some really inadvisable “energy spray” at a gas station in southern Illinois.) St. Louis came and went in a heartbeat. The sunrise chased us through the low, rolling hills of lower Missouri.

And here we are in muggy, disarming Branson, where breakfast is fast and cheap, the views are idyllic, and Yakov Smirnoff has his own theater. We’ve been up for almost 24 hours straight, but hey! Our hotel has an amazing view of Lake Taneycomo and we were greeted with a plate of cheese, fruit and crackers and a bottle of San Pellegino. Branson is onto something.

Decked out in our magazine-insider finest (huge glasses, dark clothing), we’re about to grab a drink, naturally. Pictures, videos and hilarious exploits are to come (we have to find someplace in this sleepy outpost to find USB cables), so keep checking the site as we stumble around wondering what exactly it is we think we’re doing here.