Looking for America: I can't find the words

By Jim T. Ryan, Wandering Hooligan

It's been two weeks since my friend and I embarked on our road trip "to find America."

In all honesty, what we found was some killer hangovers and western Pennsylvania. But if you're planning a spontaneous road trip and you never venture beyond your state in a three-day period, it doesn't necessarily mean you didn't find a slice of America, one small photo album in an archive of what constitutes the "Land of the Free, Home of the Brave."

I've taken so long to write anything because, honestly, I wasn't sure what to write. I couldn't find the words to accurately describe our journey. On one level, it was merely a booze-fueled weekend of guys being guys.

But on another level, we saw how America has changed since the days when we were small. The journey was a slide show of the past 25 years, encapsulating key moments in time for us, our nation.



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We saw interesting weather, spectacular scenery, several groundhogs and night clubs in small towns where you'd expect to be dealt a whopping dose of country music, yet found yourself blasted with the latest dance music at decibel levels likely to cause ear cancer. And we found evidence that no matter how authoritarian our often conservative society tries to be, it will never silence the rebel, the scofflaw, the pirate, the young and irreverent souls looking to carve their name into the landscape.

We even heard many grumblings about politics of the day and saw a man who stood like a statue at the Flight 93 crash site near Shanksville. He babbled non-stop to anyone within earshot about the dedication to marking the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001 in the area. I wondered then if he would be quiet long enough for me to listen to the wind.

In some places, I felt moved. In others, I felt at peace. Still others, I felt nothing.

I guess that's America. I'd like to believe that I'd be moved and inspired by every place in my homeland.

But the truth is sometimes you're just numb...or about to vomit as you peer out through your aviator shades in a Denny's on a tasteless excuse for a breakfast, and a room of people whose buzzing, stupid conversations are driving a white-hot nail into your brain.

But that's America.