I was driving through Detroit on Christmas when a man set his underpants on fire as Northwest Flight 253 approached Detroit Metro. Chatter exploded on my telephone and AM radio cranked the paranoia to eleven. I pointed the car south and kept driving.
Every hundred miles I pass a Jo-Anne’s Fabrics, Red Lobster, and Wal-Mart. People with shopping carts wander among cinderblock architecture and service drives. Others drag their carts under highway overpasses for the night. Last week in Orlando, I sat in a sushi restaurant watching three enormous screens as Poppy Harlowe took us live to Times Square where troops were attacking a mysterious white van. Everybody’s saying we need to pay closer attention. The nation is in a deep freeze. Last night some people froze to death in Maryland or North Carolina, I forget which. The radio says this is proof that global warming is the biggest hoax in American history. My friends are saying things like, “Of course he had to sit by the wing so he could do the most damage.” We’re becoming experts in demolition. Three days ago a man opened fire in a Las Vegas courthouse. Today a man opened fire at a factory in St. Louis. I point the car north and zoom back to Brooklyn, dreaming of buying a shotgun house in New Orleans. The radio says we must be vigilant against terrorism and socialism. A few hundred miles later, my telephone is bursting with breaking news and status updates. I pull off the interstate, drift past the Jo-Anne’s Fabrics and Red Lobster, and pull into a Best Buy parking lot. I can’t tell what state I’m in.____________________________
James A. Reeves is a writer, designer, teacher, and patriot. He writes at Kinosport.tv and you can listen to him chatter @kinosport.
