Thoughts at six a.m.

It's six a.m....dreaded finals season in colleges across America. I just wanted to ads a few thoughts. First, the title True Patriots means something to me, too. I don't remember if I had any input in the title- maybe?- but if I did, I would have chosen the name true patriots for a wonderful encounter I had on a family road trip this summer.
It was a brutally cold, rainy August night in Green Bay, Wisconsin, and the Pahl family had acquired much sought after tickets to the Packers-Seahawks preseason game at hallowed Lambeau Field (really...they were much sought after...they were being scalped for 200 bucks outside the stadium). We found our seats, about fifty rows up on the ice cold, aluminum bleachers, and settled in for a long, wet evening of sloppy football. I was sitting on the far left edge of our row, with my brother, the ever colorful Nate Pahl, to my right. Our parents were a few seats down, as was our younger sister.
Now, it's pouring rain- just coming down in sheets. So, the teams finish warm ups, a big American flag is unfurled on the field, and the stadium rises, in unison, for the National Anthem. Without thinking, my brother and I do not remove the hoods from our garish yellow ponchos as the Star Spangled Banner kicks into gear. Again, it's pouring fucking rain, like a biblical rainfall here, so over 80 percent of the stadium neglects to remove their ponchos, too. Unfortunately, 80 percent of the stadium is not sitting in front of the total drunken shithead that Nate Pahl and I are sitting in front of.
This guy, henceforth referred to as shithead, is about 300 pounds, short, squat, and round as a boulder. He's decked out in camoflage, an orange hunting hat, and looks like he just spent eight years in the mountains- this dude hasn't shaved in months. He's also hammered drunk. And, as Nate Pahl and I are about to find out, one hell of a patriot.
About two lines into the anthem, shithead taps Nate Pahl on the shoulder. "Hey, show some respect for your country. Uncover your head. Honor America." Nate Pahl, without really thinking, reaches up and slides the hood of his poncho off his head, appeasing, only slightly, shithead. Now, he comes after me. "You, too" he growls and slurs. "On the end. Show some respect for this country and those who died for it. Uncover your head."

I turn around, slowly, so as not to get my head wet (I hate wet hair). "Dude," I say. "It's pouring. No way. I don't feel like getting soaked." There is no fucking way I'm taking this poncho off, especially for this guy.
Shithead dives in for more: "If you don't uncover your head right now, you aren't a patriot." I swear on my dead dog's grave (rip, Cocoa), this guy actually said this. Verbatim.
Now, I'm not one to get all hot and bothered about patriotism. I'm the guy who said, earlier this summer at a baseball game, "I'm not singing God Bless America because I miss the seventh inning stretch. God Bless America is propoganda. Oh, and fuck George Bush." (really, though, fuck George Bush). Still, I love my country. I love it to death, and that is why it pains me to see a silver spoon asshole like George Bush desecrating our constitution, trampling our civil liberties, and sending our men and women to die to feed his pathetic ego. It pains me even more to see dumb fucks like this drunk ass tossing around words like "patriot" and "freedom" as if they were weapons. Sitting in Lambeau Field, being berated by right wing talking points, I'm righteously pissed off. Thus, my love of country re-ignited, I turn, slowly, and look this drunken, slobbering, rotund bastard in the eye. "Sir," I say. "I love my country. And unlike you, I don't have to take my fucking hat off to prove it."
Taken aback, Shithead leaves me alone. Nate Pahl looks at me, surprised, and, doing the sensible thing, puts his hood back on. Shithead objects, and reaches down and pulls Nate Pahl's hood off his head. Nate Pahl, enraged, spins around and is now standing toe to toe with a 300 pound, drunken, grizzled Wisconsinite.
Now, for those who don't know Nate Pahl, he's an imposing figure. He's about an inch shy of six feet, with a shaved head. He's a big ass guy, with broad shoulders and a neck the size of Delaware. He's fucking jacked, and as he will be quick to tell you, he reps on the bench at 255. He could kick my ass in a heart beat. Anyway. Nate Pahl, glowing red with fury, stares this shithead down, and says "If you touch me again, I will fucking kill you." And I don't doubt the fact that Nate Pahl would have.
Luckily (sadly?), my father stepped in and difused the situation. Shithead went back to his beers and Nate Pahl stewed by himself, at one point espousing on his distaste for the midwest, and his desire to return to "civilization" (the east coast). For maybe the first time ever, Nate Pahl and I were on the same side in an idealogical battle. It felt nice.
What does this have to do with the title "True Patriots?" Honestly, not all that much, except that I occasionally like to refer to myself as a patriot in jest. Still, there's a fifty percent chance I actually thought up that title, and if I did, it's absolutely because of that story.

Lastly, I just want to echo the eloquent and wise words of Pinks. This is a trip about getting to know our country, good and bad, beautiful and ugly, profound and mundane. It is a trip about enhancing our perspective, and hopefully opening our eyes to people and problems we did not know existed. It's a trip about meeting people- and maybe even sitting down with that shithead, throwing back a beer, and finding some common ground that we have as humans and Americans (Go Pack Go!). It is an educational trip in every sense of the word. We welcome people to have a dialogue with us (I promise I will not call you shitheads or any other vulgar names...I can't speak for Pinks. He's part bovine, you know...unpredictable and wily). We want people to recommend places to visit, people to meet, food to eat. We want to meet as many people as possible through this trip.
And that brings me to my last thought. This trip is also about friendship. It's about searching for those rare, unexpected moments of transcendence that can only occur with the people you love most- those moments that ultimately define our lives, and help to give them meaning. Perhaps that's a selfish reason for taking this trip, but it is my biggest reason- I want to spend more time with these guys, I want to experience as much of this world, this life, as I can with them.