The lefty U.S. correspondent for the Guardian just penned his farewell column on this country. I loved this passage:
Time and again, while on the road, I would experience just how warm, wonderful and
occasionally warped Americans can be. In Montgomery, Alabama, the cradle of the Confederacy, I was driven the wrong way up a one-way street by a young white woman high on life and Martini whom I had only just met. By day, I was covering Rosa Parks’ memorial services. By night, I accompanied my new companion from gay bar to night club, drinking plenty and talking about drugs as though the cast of Letter to Brezhnev had ended up in the Deep South.
In Salt Lake City, the main town in the most conservative state in the union, I would wait for the mayor in a Hispanic biker bar, watching slides beamed onto the wall of scantily clad women writhing around on motorcycles. In Mississippi, three elderly people threatened to shoot me when I asked directions. A few months later, in the same state, a policeman would threaten to jail me for "giving him a look".
Yep, I recognize that country. And I love it beyond measure. The rest of the essay, with which I’m not in total agreement, can be read here.
The Dish 