Join the discussion: At the end of a journey, reckoning with the joys — and the contradictions — that make up America
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LOS ANGELES — Venice Beach is dark and quiet except for the ocean as we sit on a lifeguard stand drinking a bottle of wine that has traveled with us, in fluctuating temperatures, since the first day of our two-week trip. It came from a store near the Wizard of OZ museum in Kansas, which felt apt.
Ten states, 2,877 miles, a car crash with Elvis, two tarantula sightings, and countless drive-thru French fries later, we were feeling sentimental. We wore our matching Grand Canyon sweatshirts that made passersby confuse us for a volleyball team, and continued plotting out how to prank our editor in Boston into believing that we got matching tattoos. We were trying to wrap our brains around the part of the country we experienced through this rare opportunity to go out and talk to strangers about just about anything.
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