North Dakota
“It’s punch, fight, fuck.” At least, that’s how a native Texan describes roughnecking, the principal occupation in northern North Dakota. “Those boys ain’t right,” he adds, throwing back his third shot of whiskey before 2 pm. Google Williston or Watford City, and you’ll see most of the news coverage on the area follows a similar narrative–the two quickly-assembled oil towns have become synonymous with stupefying amounts of alcohol, meth pipes, heroin needles, violence and prostitution. Primed with this backdrop, I was expecting tents and trailers, wide-eyed and haggard men walking the streets aimlessly, a place devoid of women where roughnecks away from their families are flush with cash to spend on vice. Actually, though, Williston was quite nice. The cheapest hotels in town charge about $90 per night. Local coffee shops sell lattes for more than $4, and they’re interspersed between antique and gift shops. All the staple fast food chains – Culver’s, McDonald’s, Burger King, Subway, Dairy Queen – handle lines that wrap around the building. The town was built up less than five years ago, and all the buildings look like it, clean. Driving out of town, I end up at The Cafe, a small Ukrainian restaurant that has seen increased revenues from the oil boom, but also trouble in the form of traffic mishaps, drug problems and prostitution. The owner and an elderly woman who waits tables three days a week...
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