We wake up by lake Dardanelle - or Lady Lake Gaga as Jess seems to think it is called (Jess does not seem to be following the Geography of our trip well. Nor does Flo who we find out thought Grand Canyon was actually a giant waterfall.
Despite being totally abandoned it is absolutely immaculate and new. The general consensus is that we have stumbled into some mildly horrific Jurassic Park scenario. For no apparent reason we feel so uplifted that we decide to have a group jog around the park. Having absolutely no sensible footwear - and somehow managing to lose 1 show in Memphis - Flo has to do this in ballet shoes. As I lead the group 'jungle running' through woodland it becomes clear that it would be sensible to stop and go for a swim instead.
Off to Tulsa we head. Somehow we have it in our head that this town is going to provide us with some kind of wild night out. We know it sounds familiar and realise it is just because Chandler from 'Friends' is relocated there. And hates it. Oh.
We pull in just before sunset and walk to a diner on Route 66. I line my stomach with a chocolate milkshake and the local speciality - Chicken Fried Steak - which, by the way, is not actually chicken. It is in fact a deep fried hamburger. With white gravy.
We walk on, getting tooted by all the locals. Jess merrily waves back as we skip our way on to the Eleventh Street Pub. (We find out later that Route 66 is famed for prostitutes - current going rate $20 by the way- which is why we were ceremoniously welcomed by the local passing drivers)
What happens next is really quite hard to describe. In a matter of minutes we go from a quiet beer, to the most potent vodka-tonic in existent, to the house special shots 'Red Headed Slut'. The barlady told us she had invented the shot - Flo not knowing its name, asked if it was named after her. The answer was "yes".
The following few hours are a blur of everyone on tables dancing to the bar song "I Want It All - Queen". And then watching the red headed slut herself perform with unbridled passion (think climbing on pool table and then throwing herself onto her knees on the floor) to AC/DC. We then had a brawl break out in the corner because Paula's (wearing a BITCH cap - which apparently stands for Beautiful Intelligent Talented Charming and Happy) husband arrived while she was snogging some other man on the bar. And lets not even begin thinking of the local 40 something year old prostitute who arrived to do business in pink wal mart shorts and crop top.
Or Connie from the local liquor store who - after warning Ashley to maybe calm down a little - I found him singing Shania Twain with at the top of his lungs while dancing on the pool table for the rest of the night.