Rich Smith - Around the Weird In 80 Days

As I fell to the ground, following an attack by a NativeAmerican who had just leapt from his horse andpummelled me into the ground before sinking a spearinto my stomach, I knew that this latest trip to the Stateswas to be far from the standard sightseeing tourexperienced by other tourists. At least I had my candy.With this safely stored away, I was sure that I could keepmy trousers on and leave the battlefield in one piece.

Perhaps I should explain why on earth I was lying ina field in central Montana after having been killed forthe second time in two days. My past experiences inAmerica are not unconnected.

In 2005 my accomplice Luke Bateman and I travelled14,000 miles across America in an attempt to breakobscure, outdated and outlandish laws. A frivolouscrime spree, if you will. It was a thoroughly pleasurableexperience and, ever since our arrival back in the UK, Ihad been yearning for an excuse to return.

The crime spree was a different type of road trip. Intheory, although it was I who ultimately decided whichdirection we took, the location of the laws determinedthe path our cross-country venture would follow. Itdictated where we would end up and whom we wouldmeet. And I liked that. I enjoy small-town America, itspeople, history and peculiarities. They are communitiesin which the presence of a couple of Englishmen is somethingof interest.

In January 2007, I happened to stumble across a videoclip on a very well-known video-sharing websitedocumenting an event in Georgia known as the'Redneck Games'. Hundreds of people in dungareesyelling and screaming whilst jumping in pits of mudwas enough to get my undivided attention. From thenon, I scoured every festival and events guide on theinternet as well as all fifty states' tourism websites, andwith a calendar, map and reams of scrap paper, I beganto make a note of my favourites. I had found my excuse a trip that would surely be as amusing as my last and,so far as I could tell, entirely legal.

With the crime spree, plotting a path was simple as Icould turn up on any day of the week and break the law.This new itinerary was far more difficult, as although Iwanted to stay out for an entire year, I couldn't afford to,meaning that the festivals that were held outside of mybudgeted three-month summer were out of the question.Sadly, 'Mike the Headless Chicken Day' was an earlycasualty. Also, most events were staged over weekendsand inevitably some coincided with others, meaning Ihad to pick and choose. The 'Mission Mountain TesticleFestival' in Montana did not make the cut, for example.It wouldn't be much of a road trip either: although a hirecar needed to be used at all times, reaching the far-flunglocations would demand several domestic flights.

The only festival I decided to attend outside of thesummer months was the 'World's Largest Machine GunShoot', in Louisville, Kentucky, which was to be held inApril. I had heard it was a convention for gunenthusiasts and Nazi sympathizers, which sounded...interesting. Bateman and I would spend a few days therebefore returning to the UK to await the beginning of ourmajor excursion in June.

A week before we were due to leave, Bateman sent mea text. It read simply: 'Don't think I can go'. He hadbroken his ankle playing rugby after a heavy night'sdrinking. I began a two-month campaign to have myflight money refunded because of his injury. A monthlater, Bateman pulled the plug on his entire involvementwith the project, saying that he wanted to spend thesummer 'getting a proper job'. Is 'professional sidekick'

no longer considered a job these days?

Not wanting to travel alone, I enlisted the help ofanother friend, 22-year-old Antony, who naturallyjumped at the chance of embarking on a free three monthholiday. He was a perfect choice. He was funny,light-hearted and, at that point, the best kind of studentat Cheltenham University: one who had already failed(twice) and was simply enjoying the life of a dosser toomuch to return home to Cornwall.

With no late surprises, Antony was about to embarkon his first trip to America and I had finally been grantedwhat I had wished for two years ago: my chance toreturn.