don't call it a comeback!

well laateedaah, look who's back in the good ol' u.s. of gay! me. the trip was fabolus of course, and I think it provided new perspectives which may come to serve as lasting and substantial influences on my thinking. For lack of anything better to write today or in the near future, I think I will comment on the ingenious thoughts provoked by my travels.

So, if you've ever prepped for a trip, you may have heard the conversational contribution: "well, if you're travelling abroad you should put a Canadian flag on your backpack, cause you don't want people to know you're American." Yea, well I ain't no flag-waving, gun-toting "blame America never" foolio, but jebus christmas, if you're a friggin' American you're probably going to stay that way, and really who cares what some ignorant euro-trash thinks about you.

The other half of this would be the Canadians who put a Canadian flag on their backpacks. They really don't want to be seen as Americans. This allows them to think they are somehow better, and more accepted by the international community. At any rate, it seems pretty unecessary. You look and speak like an idiot; the flag bag is redundant.

The most amazing case of this rejection of American citizenship that I witnessed was at a customs office in Greece. A 40-something guy travelling alone, with a gigantic backpack, was asked his nationality by a customs officer who knew about two words of Engrish. Guy's reponse: "Well, I'm from Hawaii."
"What? U.S.?"
"Hawaii."
"What?"
"Hawaii. It's not really the United States. It's separate. Hawaii, in the Pacific Ocean."
"Ok, U.S., thanks."
Through my spine shot an amazing impulse to grow some disgusting facial hair, get a giant patriotic tatoo like with a bald eagle soaring above billowing American flags or something and maybe the flamming words: "America is the best country ever, all other countries suck." then buy a really loud harley and ride it shirtless across the globe stopping at every McDonalds along the way.