When we weren’t going to Disney World, my family always took weird vacations to places like Missouri and Iowa to check out the birthplaces of literary figures. As soon as I got to college, I started road-tripping to places like South Carolina and Georgia for my spring breaks. The most West Coast I’d ever gotten was a trip to Idaho with my roommate my senior year of college, and even that involved lots of greenery and snow. I never understood the point of visiting the desert and never had any desire whatsoever–I mean whatsoever–to see the Grand Canyon.
And then we flew over it on our way to California.
Don’t ask me what’s going on out in the desert to make this bright orange.
Not so bad, is it?