When we landed in Springfield, we went to pick up the rental car I had reserved. The nice lady at the counter checked my information and offered to upgrade me from the mid-size sedan I had booked to a brand new Toyota 4Runner that she had on the lot. I gladly accepted, rightfully thinking that the 4Runner would more easily hold all our bags than a Corolla would. All was good.
We drove the 4Runner for over two weeks, including trips to Arkansas and to Kansas City. It was a beast. Huge, for sure, with a great view of the road, but only a moderately comfortable ride. The interior–after driving an Acura and a Lexus before moving to London–was a bit basic. Not bad, but not as nice, either. The real issue, though, was the gas mileage. We were getting under 18 miles per gallon throughout the trip. I was appalled the first time I had to fill the gas tank. I used to get 24 mpg in my ’03 Acura TL (with my heavy foot driving it) and 21 mpg in Carissa’s RX350. A mere 18 was horrific, especially in a newer vehicle.
I noticed, too, that there were a lot of big vehicles on the road. Why does America have so many four-door trucks? Wouldn’t a light pickup be better for trips to Sam’s Club and a sedan be better for hauling kids to soccer practice? I can maybe wrap my head around someone in construction needing to move building supplies and a crew of workers in a single vehicle, but not the average person for everyday driving. Such a massive, inefficient truck seems like a waste, not just of greenhouse gases, but of purchase price and ongoing fuel expenses. It makes me think buying a vehicle that size is about something else… Missouri, if you’re considering buying a four-door truck, maybe you should go see your urologist instead. A Viagra prescription will surely be less expensive than your weekly fill-up, and it will do far more to help you compensate for whatever is lacking in your life.
Many people asked what had changed while we’ve been away. Springfield, the city, was much as we remembered, give or take a few stores and restaurants. We, on the other hand, felt that we had changed considerably. The kids have grown, of course, but even Carissa and I have noticed that our view of America and the world has shifted. When you’re swimming in a pot that’s slowly boiling, you don’t notice the change as much. Looking in from the outside, we can see the bubbles forming. There’s an attitude of selfishness in Springfield, the Ozarks, and America, in general, that is much more apparent to us now than when we lived there. It’s both political and cultural, and I think Trump and Covid have laid it bare. I don’t remember when science denial became a key plank of American conservatism. I don’t remember when utter disregard for the safety of your friends and neighbors became widely accepted. I surely don’t remember when the pandemic skipped over the Ozarks like a tornado over a sheltered valley. Aside from talking to a handful of people, it was like being in an alternate universe compared to Europe. I guess your hospitals aren’t so full of covid patients that other appointments are being rescheduled? How Americans can look at the rest of the world and be like, “nah, it’ll never happen here” blows my mind. (And don’t get me started on voting rights!)
If you’re thinking “yeah, whatever, dude,” I present you this gem to neatly encapsulate whatever the heck is going on back home:
In other news, it felt like we ate our way through Springfield. In 17 days, I think I had barbeque on 7 of them. We also ate a preposterous amount of Mexican food, frozen custard, and chicken sandwiches. Add Nonna’s cooking on top, and it was a calorie-rich environment.
I know you’re expecting a punch line. There isn’t one. We ate a lot of comfort food, and it was good.
We went to Kansas City for New Year’s Eve to see the Diullos and play board games. This was an all-day affair, and it included a round of Battlestar Galactica. If you’re not familiar with the game, it’s a secret identity game where the humans are trying to save their spaceship and get to a safe planet while the hidden Cylons are trying to sabotage them and destroy humanity. We had 8 players, which is more than the game supports, but we decided to play, anyway. This included giving the youngest child a human loyalty card so she would have an easier time learning the game. Naturally, she picked a character card that made her President of humanity. I was actually a hidden Cylon, and I had the admiral card that allowed me to do significant damage to the humans. I knew we had at least one other Cylon, but possibly two more. The youngest child started accusing everyone, but especially the guys at the table. She was in peak, shouty, tween form, but it was all good fun. Then the humans won a skill check that allowed them to see my loyalty card. I thought I was sunk. Revealed. Busted. Off to the brig where I couldn’t do nearly as much damage. The eldest child was the current player, so she took my card. She looked at it, passed it back, and announced… “he’s human.” The youngest child demanded that she look her in the eye and repeat that I was human. Eldest child was a stone-cold killing machine and stared her sister down with a curt declaration that “he’s human.” Reader, I was such a toaster (Cylon) that I should have had Black+Decker written on my forehad. (Non-Americans, Black+Decker is a common brand for household electronics.)
Everyone bought it. I was in shock. I mean, I was bursting with pride, but I could barely look at her and keep a straight face. At that point, the humans were done, but we took another half hour to really turn the screws on them, including brigging the two most dangerous humans before I finally revealed my true allegiance and the penny dropped that the eldest child was also a traitor. The non-reveal when I thought I was sunk was one of the best board game moments I’ve ever had. Thank you, Diullos, for being such good sports about it!
On our way back to London, we had to check bags at the Springfield airport. The first bag up weighed in at 55 pounds. This was 5 pounds over the limit, and it was going to incur an excess weight fee. Initially, we were thinking we should just pay the fee, but then I remembered the last-minute trip to Walmart and the extra supplies (sweets) we bought. Specifically, I remembered the double-pack of Jif peanut butter that weighed exactly 5 pounds. I dug out the peanut butter and a hardback book, and we were back in business at 49 pounds. The book and the peanut butter went into other bags, and we were good to go, but we were about 30 seconds away from a $110 jar of peanut butter. Oops.
All joking aside, we had a good time seeing our friends and our family. I know we didn’t get to see everyone, but we tried to fit as many people as we could without running ourselves completely ragged. Two and a half years away was a long time, and we hope to be back to visit sooner next time. I can’t possibly give enough thanks to everyone who hosted us, visited us, and generally put up with our stories about Life Over Here, but thank you all the same.