With the cards in my wallet, I threw a couple of suits and some other clothes and my toilet kit into a bag, boarded a plane for Sioux Falls, and, once there, rented a car to drive to the capital city of Pierre (or "Peer," as they pronounce it there). The four-hour drive was mostly on autopilot due west into the late-afternoon sun, along flat Interstate 90, with small towns I’d never heard of scattered along the way. Much too rural for this city boy: I was glad I was just passing through.