[dropcap]W[/dropcap]ell I’ll be damned. One study found the most popular 2015 New Year’s resolution is to travel more. Which might sound like a fabulous thing, except the statistic is dead-wrong.
At least in the South it is.
Because if you measured just Southerners, you’d find only three percent want to travel more. Meaning: there’s not enough Southerners with wanderlust to form a gospel quartet.
What can we say? We like it here.
Don’t get us wrong, Southerners enjoy sightseeing like anyone else. We just don’t need to leave the South to do it, thank you very much.
We have Charleston, South Carolina. The world’s most historic city — second to Rome. Sure, Rome might have naked sculptures, but so does Charleston. And George Washington never slept in the Colosseum did he? No. But he slept in the John Ruteledge house — probably naked. They all did back then. My wife and I slept in Georgie’s exact bed.
Only, on top the covers.
Savannah’s marvelous, too. Once, we stayed at a haunted hotel, which made my wife nervous. I paid the eight-year-old boy next door five dollars to make ghost noises and beat on the walls from time to time. And that is how I broke two ribs.
Interested in exotic foods? Go to Chipley, Florida for a possum fry. Try the tail. You want beaches? Orange Beach, Alabama. Mountains? Banner Elk, North Carolina. Hiking? Virginia. Music? New Orleans. I could do this all day.
No. We’re not all world travelers. Go ahead, call us narrow minded, we’ve been called worse at the Iron Bowl. Small-town Southerners aren’t like everyone else. They don’t need to wake up in Alexandroupoli, Greece to find themselves.
We’re not not running from anything, and we sure as hell aren’t chasing it, either. We’re family people, churchgoers, artists, fishermen, millworkers, and cooks. We don’t need passports to discover what we already have. Maybe you do.
Maybe you ought to come down here and pay us a visit.