Oasis I was on my own for the day in Tulsa while P. Ran a workshop. It was fun to sleep in, but there is only so much time that one can spend in a hotel room before something must be done. In the form of, you know, getting out. I hit the streets in search of some nice Midwest action, and found a whole lot of nothing. I wandered, roamed, and sauntered until finding out the harsh truth that downtown Tulsa contains nothing and is surrounded by freeway overpasses. After several hours it occurred to me that what I really needed was a drink. Where to go became the question. The only place I knew of wasn’t a place I was eager to go back to, so I continued to wander. I felt like a nomad passing through the streets of a post-apocalyptic burg. I had finally given up and was headed back to the hotel when I decided to walk over an overpass spanning a skanky pair of railroad tracks. To my amazement, on the other side, was one block of what looked to be shops and restaurants! I almost ran, not because I thought I had found a bar, but because there was life. Much to my joy there was also a bar. I walked in with an idiot grin on my face and ordered a shot of Jameson and a beer before lighting up a cigarette. It was a fine moment indeed. The only thing that would have made it better was if P. Had been there.
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