We get into Tulsa at dark. The town is beautiful, with lots of neon and art deco and colored decals advertising burritos and cheap cell phones in the windows. We stop and eat, then on to Oral Roberts University, across from the mammoth church of the late televangelist himself. The entrance to the University is guarded by massive praying hands - the largest bronze sculpture in America, Brett tells me. We wonder whose hands they are modeled after. Oral Roberts himself, perhaps?

The campus was built in the 1960s under the serious influence of space-age architecture. The buildings don't just feel dated, they feel like they were always dated – ultra-modernism arriving late to Tulsa. As a result the buildings are fun and unpretentious, like a theme park version of the university of tommorrow.

All of the buildings are centered around a massive "prayer tower." It is at least four stories tall, but most of the building is a metal monolith, with a thirteen-pronged star-shaped room extending out of its control-tower center. On top of the tower, an eternal flame blazes in the Oklahoma night. It is as if someone nailed the Space Needle into the ground and lit it on fire.

We wander around on the deserted walkways; Brett keeps calling the campus "Oral Robots." We stay in a place called the Interstate Inn that night. There are bugs and a literal hole in the wall. The man at the front desk tells us that "it isn't the Hyatt Regency." The tv gets unscrambled porn and religious shows; we watch a tv preacher and then go to bed.