Back in the US, back in the US, back in the USA
We know we’re back in the States. The actor Adrian Paul, a.k.a. “Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod” is leading a charity auction at the official “Highlander” convention we are attending in Los Angeles. The 1964 black Thunderbird convertible he drove in the TV series goes for a jaw-dropping $61,000. Where else but in the land of info-mercials, Super Big-Gulps and other excesses could you witness such a delightfully extravagent act?
We’ve been back in the US for about a month now. We had both been looking forward to it eagerly. I even got down on my hands and knees and kissed the ground when we touched down in Honolulu. (I don’t recommend lip contact with airport asphalt, by the way.) Now that we’re here, however, we sometimes wonder why we were so eager to return. Don’t misunderstand me; I’m really truly glad to be an American - despite all its problems, I wouldn’t want to live (long term) anywhere else. But like any place I’ve visited in the world, I’ve been experiencing an ambivalence about being here. I love going into a grocery store knowing I’ll have a good selection of products. But is it necessary to have 15 brands of toothpaste staring back at me from the shelves? I love being back in a country where citizens aren’t afraid of openly criticizing government officials. But do we really need a minute-by-minute Starr-sponsored update of the president’s libido?
Hawaii was a good transition stop back into the American mainstream. It is America, I suppose, though we kept saying “when we get back to America.” There were enough visual cues that we were back: 7-11s; cars on the “right” side of the road; highway signage that actually made sense; Chili’s (where we scored an old-fashioned burger and chocolate milkshake); high prices quoted in actual dollars that we didn’t have to multiply by 6 to figure the conversion factor; and last but not least, a proper Tanqueray martini (shaken, not stirred, 2 olives. Nectar of the gods).
It was easier to find |
