I suggested Cody, Wyoming, right outside the east gate of Yellowstone National Park. (“I hate hiking,” one son grumbled.) I suggested Boulder, Colorado. I suggested Seattle. I suggested they drive cross country and get a sense of the whole shebang.
“Are there cheap fares to Europe these days?” my friend asked.
Wrong question, especially after I have a few glasses of sangria in me.
“You should see your own country!” I opined loudly, pounding the table, startling them all and making the last few bites of my chocolate éclair bounce in its paper frill.
But really … why see Big Ben every few years if you’ve never seen Big Bend? What has Paris got to offer for the sixth time that is so much better than seeing Portland, Oregon, once? The Alps are spectacular, but get to know the Rockies, too.
To her credit, this friend has lived in California, New York and New Jersey and been to Santa Fe, Texas, New Orleans, Disney World and the Grand Canyon. Disney World and the Grand Canyon are on my list of required sights for all Americans, along with Las Vegas, Ellis Island, the Pacific Coast and a few other choice spots. So she’s not a total loss. But her sons haven’t seen nearly as much of the nation.
OK, I understand that not everyone wants to sit in a field in Oklahoma watching chickens dance. That’s mainlining America, you have to work up to that sort of thing. But I am frankly intolerant of people who think travel must entail crossing an ocean, who don’t open themselves up to the diversity of Flyover America. My gosh, we barely even speak the same language coast-to-coast.
Sure, I love the heck out of Europe. Asia is thrilling—the most foreign foreign place I’ve ever visited. And I hope not to die before I see more of South America. I have nothing against anyplace else. Some of my best friends are other places in the world.
But still, if you’re traveling the world while ignoring the United States, shame on you. I pound the table in your general direction.