'Spoiler alert: Jesus wins,' a roadside sign reads. I don't know what exactly Jesus would define as winning, because I haven't seen much I would consider prize-winning over the past few days.
We are driving through the small town of Lawton, Oklahoma. It's seven in the evening. The sun is low, but it's still well over 40 degrees Celsius. The streets are empty except for a few cars. Hardly anyone is out here for fun. There is no need to be because there is a drive-through for everything: besides ordering food and drinks, you can also withdraw cash, pick up medication, buy cigarettes, weed, or alcohol, get a new tire, or even an oil change, all from the comfort of your air-conditioned — or not — car.
Since most people stay in, it is all the more noticeable when someone is out. In the corner of my eye, I see a young girl with a white flapping dress on a little blue bike. I am not reducing anything to patronize, the bike is small. The only thing that is not small is the huge Slurpee cup in her wicker basket on the front of her bike. Her eyes are squinting from the sun that’s still bright; her short, unkempt hair standing upright and sweetly blowing in the almost imperceptible wind.
