Williston greets us with an out-stater vomiting in the Wal-Mart parking lot.

"You need help, buddy?" I say. Call out the window.

The out-stater replies with a wave. Resumes vomiting. We keep driving.

The parking lot is packed. Even the signs that say, "No overnight parking," aren't keeping the crowd down. Wal-Mart didn't always mind overnighters. Even encouraged it. Not anymore.

Despite that, we spot truck after parked truck with sleeping bags in the cab. Unrolled.

"Must be looking for work still," Sam says. Drives home her earlier point.

"This is probably their first stop on the prairie," I say.

That's better than a guess. Williston is ground zero for the boom. Even more so than Minot, which tries to keep the veneer of its former self alive.

"Watch out for the slow pokes," Sam says.

Sticking out from the masses is an older couple. They shuffle down the aisle of trucks. Not dressed like oil workers. Must be locals.

I skirt the truck around them. We hear the old guy say something as we pass.

"Takes twice as long to do anything," the old guy says. "Can't even cook a decent meal anymore."

The old lady nods her head. Gives us a look as we drive past.

"Yeah, well, screw you, too, bitch," Sam says out the window.

I can't blame the older couple. There's a shortage of everything. Especially in Williston.

It's not just food. It's everything. ATVs. Truck parts. Appliances. Repair services. Footwear. Fishing rods. Short supply is the norm now. Try waking up to that every day. It'd make anyone crabby.

"The oil boom is why North Dakota has all this money in the first place. They could show a little appreciation," Sam says.

"I think the honeymoon's over," I say. "You're from out-of-state. You don't remember how it was before the boom."

"Does that mean I don't get an opinion?" Sam says.

"No, I'm just saying. The boom changed a lot. For every good thing it brought, it brought a bad one," I say. Point a thumb behind us. "Like that out-stater in the parking lot. Public puking wasn't exactly a common thing."

Out-stater. I shouldn't have said it. I can tell Sam's still sore about that word.

"Fine. I'll just keep my opinions to myself," she says.

We drive in silence before finding a parking spot. It's next to a rusted out RV. There's a mangled tent tangled around its back bumper. A couple hundred yards of duct tape are webbed around the mess for no particular reason. Looks like the whole conundrum's been there for a few thousand miles.

A guy with a gut down to his knees leans on the van. Cigar in one hand. Burrito in the other. Sports a haircut that could charitably be called a skullet.

"Would that be an example of a bad thing the boom brought?" Sam says. Points and grins.

I return the smile. Break the ice.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that's just Wal-Mart," I say. "Nothing to do with the boom."

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