Y is a different sort of traveler than I am. I’m the kind of airplane passenger who puts my headphones on or buries my nose in a book immediately after sitting down. I don’t care where you’re from, 16A, I don’t care where you’re going, and I don’t want to tell you what I’m reading. Unless you have a baby. If you have a baby, I want to hold it and then give it back to you as soon as it starts crying so no one thinks I am that person with a crying baby on a plane.
Y, on the other hand, comes home with a person’s first and last name, where they went to elementary school, and the latest argument they had with their wife. During layovers, he dines in airport bars with plane-friends. On this trip, someone from Y’s flight was staying at his hotel and they went out to lunch. I DON’T GET IT.
When Y told me he got this interview, I gave him the so-called stinkface, a term coined by Katie. I had never even considered visiting this particular state or city, much less living there. But then the following things happened:
- the city’s standard Wikipedia page made it sound amazing.
- every single person I mentioned it to told me I would love it.
- part of our criteria for ranking is Ike’s reaction when we say the name of the state.* When I asked Ike if he wanted to live there he did this:
*kidding. Isn’t it sad that I had to clarify that?