I'm holed up in my hotel room as a tornado warning looms outside. Antsy to do some/any-thing, I even mustered up the energy to put on gym attire only to realize the gym is "under construction". Back in the bathroom, I'm reminded of the bits of hair sprinkled all over the sink and hair dryer like tiny morsels of surprise at every corner. You start to wonder who hasn't been to this hotel. I am tempted to watch another episode of "Togetherness" but realize that I should go to sleep soon since I need to wake up in 6 hours.
Work travel isn't all it's cracked up to be, especially if work drags you to cities like Kissimmee and Cincinnati and Clearwater. However, work travel has exposed me to parts of the country I only see in passing, read about in statistics, and excuse as a world so foreign to -- and beneath -- my own. Yet, these places are home to many of Americans, many of which I have met and loved and adored at point or another. Acknowledgement toward the vast suburban complex that sprawls across the landscape is crucial to understanding what it means to be an American. What is this country built upon? From what I see, capital C consumer that drives the post-industrial economy and livelihood and desires of happiness of so many. From one drive-thru to the next parking lot to your favorite chain restaurant back to home.