Almost exactly one year ago, I was sitting in Scotland, wondering why it was so cold in March, when everyone knows it should be at least 80. I’m not really clear on what the temperature actually was since I never bothered with converting from Celsius since the equation would inevitably be: 9C/5 + 32= TOO COLD. Anyway, I was also wondering if I could actually spend not one but two more summers explaining to disgruntled people why the library doesn’t shelve books by color for minimum wage. So I started plans for the roadtrip to end all roadtrips, designed to cover everything anyone abroad had ever asked me about America. See, when I first got there, I had a lot of conversations like this:
Scottish person: You’re from America! That’s cool! Have you been to LA? Have you seen Zac Efron?
Me: No. And no.
Scottish person: New York?
Me: I mean… this one time in middle school… okay, not really.
Scottish person: The Grand Canyon?
Me: I mean… it’s just a big hole in the ground…
Scottish person: Wait, so… where in the States are you from?
Me: Florida. Texas. Kind of.
Scottish person: Miami?
Me: No… it’s like a ten hour drive from my house.
Scottish person: Right. Okay. (awkward silence)
So that’s why the tentative route looks something like this:
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