I've been doing a lot of traveling lately – crisscrossing back and forth from New York City to Oklahoma of all places. This is the first time I have had the opportunity to spend significant time off the East Coast, and it has definitely been an eye-opening experience. With layovers in Dallas, Minneapolis, Memphis, Wichita Falls and upcoming stops in Chicago and who knows where else, I may not be a world traveler, but I'm becoming a national one.
Airports offer limited views of the area, but you can definitely garner some clues. I stepped off the plane in Dallas surrounded by bright colors, big hair and feeling decidedly out of place in my black trench. There were English-speaking representatives all over making sure I was going the right way and "Texas-sized" jelly beans in the stores. Minneapolis had stores with animal heads and who knows what else, Memphis definitely had Elvis, and Wichita Falls seemed lucky to have the airport.
The real view came, however, out of the airports and in Oklahoma. I've obviously heard the stereotypes – Oklahoma is cowboy country, Hicksville, where everyone drives a pickup, chews tobacco and wears clothes that New Yorkers would sooner go naked than wear. When my boyfriend found out his next officer school in the Marine Corps would be at an Army base in middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma, I definitely made a few of those jokes myself.
Living in New York for the semester, I have become accustomed to a certain way of life – the rushing, the crowds, the stores, everyone in black and have even succumbed (if only a little) to the philosophy that New York is number one. Thus, the switch to small town life in Oklahoma is even more acute. The land is perfectly flat, many people really do drive beaten-up pickups and towns consist of strange chain restaurants like Waffle House and What-a-Burger. Walmart is huge and the sushi, even in Oklahoma City, the state's capital, leaves something to be desired. Mayor Giuliani seems to have yet to reach the Sooner State as strip clubs are definitely still a pronounced presence.
Fun in Oklahoma City is a sight to be seen. There is a rather pretty downtown area, with a winding river, shops, restaurants, a great number of bars, and unbelievably Central Park-esque carriage rides that caused me to do a complete double-take. However, the real fun this past weekend was on Meridian Avenue, where the owners of cars ranging from true hotrods to barely moving jalopies drove up and down "the strip" for hours on end. Apparently, despite its maybe lack of initial appeal, literally thousands of people gathered each night with their lawn chairs, coolers and Mardi Gras beads (it is April, right?) to see this once a year event. It was like nothing I have ever seen before and seemed to play right into every stereotype I have ever heard. All I can say is despite my East Coast laughs, the Oklahomans sure did seem to be havin' a good ole time.
Back in New York, life seems more familiar, with the crowds more pronounced, the pace a little absurd at times, the options endless, and the sushi – well, the sushi is definitely just better. I also haven't seen and New Yorkers sitting on in lawn chairs on Fifth Avenue watching hotrods. It boggles my mind sometimes that this country can be so different. To see it, all you have to do is hop on a plane.
