Visit America on a Saturday afternoon

Last Saturday I visited America, state of state.

Georgia. Tennessee. Kentucky.

It was not my intention when I left the house around noon. I thought I would go to the international airport in Südwestflorida in Fort Myers to pick up Mike and Sandy, old friends from Chicago, who would spend a few days with me. But when I came on the cell phone -los, I decided to walk around a bit until they got their luggage and called me to get them.

And then I realized that I had actually come to America, the state state.

Indiana. Illinois. Wisconsin.

These were the license plates for the cars that patiently waited to pick up family and friends who just visited RSW. Car after the car, from the state to the state, all over America.

New York. Pennsylvania. New Jersey.

It made sense that people from all of these countries probably only ended up to visit this little piece of paradise at the end of February, which came from states that felt quite far from paradise when they attacked in the early February.

Nevada. Minnesota. New Hampshire.

It was around 1 a.m. and the temperatures hovered here at about 82 degrees with 60 percent humidity. So it was no surprise that people from these cold states want to be here on this pleasant, sunny Saturday. But what was a bit surprising was that they were picked up by friends and family members from all of these distant states, not only in Florida cars – although there were of course many of them in the parking lot.

Michigan. Nebraska. Maryland.

When I visited each of them, the state of state, my mind was looking for connections to try to find the sense of everything: everyone in Colorado does a Subaru drive, or was it just a coincidence that these three plates were all on the back of outback?

Are the streets of Dallas, Texas, really so robust and hilly that you need a big black lobster with huge Nubbly tires to get to Starbucks?

Do you still make license plates in state prisons? And if so, is it cruel and unusual punishment to ask a new Hampshire Lifer to coordinate “Live Free or Die” every day for the rest of his life with “Live Free or Die”?

Maybe all potential thoughts for future columns, but at the moment I have work for this. My mentality “Collect you all” was integrated, so I pulled out my notebook and a pencil and listed all the states that I visited on this pleasant February Saturday. I didn't want to leave out or include any that I couldn't honestly say.

Delaware. Massachusetts. Virginia.

The people who were waiting in their cars take me suspicious looks at me. Who did this guy go around, looked at her license plate and made notes? I am sure that when they picked up their friends at the terminal, they tell them that swarms of government agents in flowering shirts and freight shorts in the parking lot, made notes and checked whether their vehicle stickers were up to date – or worse.

Well. It would not be the first paranoid born in Florida conspiracy theory.

Connecticut. Ohio. Maine.

I was almost disappointed when my cell phone rang. It was Mike who called to say that they had their luggage and were waiting for the number one door, among the United Airlines signs.

But wait, I hadn't checked out all the plates on the property because some drivers had withdrawn into rooms and their rear plates were buried in bushes. And new cars arrived all the time. I wouldn't want to miss Idaho.

Mike and Sandy have known me for 50 years and they understood if I had told them I would get them after I had checked out all the plates on the property.

“We should just feel comfortable,” said Mike Sandy. “It could take a while. It's just Tr. ”

I might have done that with fewer friends – with a almost certainty with my siblings – but no. I hadn't seen my friends for a long time and we had a lot to see. I jumped into my car and started to get her. I was tried to swing in the cell phone Lot No. 2 to end the job, but hey, that was Mike and Sandy, who had come to visit. The rest of America would have to wait for another day.

Later I pulled out my notebook and achieved 24 different license plates that I had seen from cars outside the state. If you include all the cars in Florida that were there too, it meant that I had unexpectedly visited exactly half of America in about 30 minutes in the middle of February.

So if you ever bore yourself in paradise on a weekend and quickly want to turn our large country from us, go to RSW for about an hour. You won't be disappointed.

Although I also saw plates from Ontario and Quebec, I didn't count our great neighbors Nation Canada as one of the states that I visited on my unexpected America tour.

That would not only be stupid, but also by nature. ®

TR Kerth is the author of the book “Revenge of the Sardinen”. Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com