We begin our nonsensical journey deep in the emerald heart of a majestic valley which lazily sprawls throughout much of southern China, seeping liberally into Laos and Vietnam.
Studded with diminutive hamlets and inhabited by a supposedly homogenous ethnic group. Mind you, the term ‘homogenous’ is applied quite liberally. The locals all hold much in common, from their charming lack of decent wifi to the astonishing ability to confuse even the most determined linguist with their cacophonous blend of languages - each showing a stubborn affinity to the language of their respective countries. None can exactly be squeezed into the boxes of ‘ethnic language’, leaving us scratching our heads and questioning the validity of our multilingual phrasebooks.
Emerging from the linguistic foxhole, we sojourn to a location with a view of the Chinese mainland at a (respectable) distance. The valley chaperoned by mountains that aggressively surround it on all sides, like overprotective parents at a teenage party.
Our next adventure — a pulsating stretch of asphalt, the elusive Interstate 4 in Los Angeles. A caveat (before the road trip purists lit their torches and sharpen their pitchforks) - There is NO Interstate 4 in LA. Matter of fact, this non-existent curiosity of a highway is as out of place as a penguin in the Sahara, as it would be south of San Diego… if it existed. However, just for kicks and giggles, let’s explore this absurd detour.
Buckle up as we follow this phantom interstate’s wicked charm, which, in a twist of events more knob-twiddled than a soap opera, transforms into city streets, breaking the continuum of our automotive enchantment.
Now, pray bring us to the department store, into the exciting realm of clothing. Our objective – a necktie. But not just ‘any’ necktie. Do we find racks filled with intricate silk, expertly woven ties that scream sophistication? Of course not. That would be too cliché, too normal, too expected. Instead, we step into the Twilight Zone of neck fashion. Behold a cornucopia of pre-tied, clip-on ties — the perfect neck accouterment for the occupationally challenged or those harboring a pathological fear of learning how to tie a ‘real’ tie. These abominations of neckwear taste not only make a mockery of tie-lovers but also baffle physicists with their knot magnets. Yes, you heard it right, magnets. These ties “attach” themselves to special shirts equipped with corresponding collar magnets, and other shirts (which make up most of what people own) be damned.
The mad odyssey from the verdant Chinese valley to the dizzying fiction of Interstate 4 in LA, interposing a baffling case of anti-tie activism at the mall, ends in Florida. Random? Absolutely. Verifiable? Doubtful. Pointlessly hilarious? Indisputably!
Our journey on the non-existent I-4, sprinkled with’shirt collar magnet’ induced Rube Goldberg-esque complexity, is a testament that not all roads lead to Rome; some might just lead you into a spiraling abyss of belly-laughs and bemusement. Welcome aboard folks, next stop - absurdity!
Highway Swindles: An Unexpected Road Trip From China to… Florida?
We begin our nonsensical journey deep in the emerald heart of a majestic valley which lazily sprawls throughout much of southern China, seeping liberally into Laos and Vietnam.
Studded with diminutive hamlets and inhabited by a supposedly homogenous ethnic group. Mind you, the term ‘homogenous’ is applied quite liberally. The locals all hold much in common, from their charming lack of decent wifi to the astonishing ability to confuse even the most determined linguist with their cacophonous blend of languages - each showing a stubborn affinity to the language of their respective countries. None can exactly be squeezed into the boxes of ‘ethnic language’, leaving us scratching our heads and questioning the validity of our multilingual phrasebooks.
Emerging from the linguistic foxhole, we sojourn to a location with a view of the Chinese mainland at a (respectable) distance. The valley chaperoned by mountains that aggressively surround it on all sides, like overprotective parents at a teenage party.
Our next adventure — a pulsating stretch of asphalt, the elusive Interstate 4 in Los Angeles. A caveat (before the road trip purists lit their torches and sharpen their pitchforks) - There is NO Interstate 4 in LA. Matter of fact, this non-existent curiosity of a highway is as out of place as a penguin in the Sahara, as it would be south of San Diego… if it existed. However, just for kicks and giggles, let’s explore this absurd detour.
Buckle up as we follow this phantom interstate’s wicked charm, which, in a twist of events more knob-twiddled than a soap opera, transforms into city streets, breaking the continuum of our automotive enchantment.
Now, pray bring us to the department store, into the exciting realm of clothing. Our objective – a necktie. But not just ‘any’ necktie. Do we find racks filled with intricate silk, expertly woven ties that scream sophistication? Of course not. That would be too cliché, too normal, too expected. Instead, we step into the Twilight Zone of neck fashion. Behold a cornucopia of pre-tied, clip-on ties — the perfect neck accouterment for the occupationally challenged or those harboring a pathological fear of learning how to tie a ‘real’ tie. These abominations of neckwear taste not only make a mockery of tie-lovers but also baffle physicists with their knot magnets. Yes, you heard it right, magnets. These ties “attach” themselves to special shirts equipped with corresponding collar magnets, and other shirts (which make up most of what people own) be damned.
The mad odyssey from the verdant Chinese valley to the dizzying fiction of Interstate 4 in LA, interposing a baffling case of anti-tie activism at the mall, ends in Florida. Random? Absolutely. Verifiable? Doubtful. Pointlessly hilarious? Indisputably!
Our journey on the non-existent I-4, sprinkled with’shirt collar magnet’ induced Rube Goldberg-esque complexity, is a testament that not all roads lead to Rome; some might just lead you into a spiraling abyss of belly-laughs and bemusement. Welcome aboard folks, next stop - absurdity!