Greasy Spoon

My job requires me to travel to areas that are normally not tourist hotspots. Places like Medina, Ohio, or Tusculum, Tennesee. Blips on the map, places that you only accidentally drive through and can miss in a blink. I'm constantly moving from one cookie cutter hotel room to another, rooms that look so much alike that it feels like I've never really left the one before.

The only thing that I've found really ties me to these out of the way places I go to are the places where I go to eat. 9 times out of 10, I throw out the little complimentary list of eateries that are handed out to every hotel guest and go to the local gas station. There, I ask the clerk where the local greasy spoon is, and eat there instead.

The greasy spoon is something that I feel is an important part of this country. They are places that can be found on roads called Turkeyfoot Lake Road, places with old neon signs that are slowly fading. Places that don't use fancy computers to type in orders, but instead still rely on old waitress pads and the furious scribble of food shorthand. They are places with menus that look like they were printed in the 1970's at the latest, with an ambiance to match.

And I love them. I love them for their greasy food and their daily specials and for the America they represent. Because that's what I see in them whenever I step through their doors. I see America. I see Elk Lodge meetings being discussed, I see trophies from Little League teams that these places have sponsored. I see local people, real people, blue collar people that have just gotten off from the kind of jobs that used to be respected in this country but now seem antiquated. People that want to get out of the cold and enjoy a hot bowl of chili or the best hot wings in the county.

I don't get that feeling at a chain restaurant, and I don't like that. I don't like that I can walk into an Applebee's and get the same Fiesta Lime Chicken in Cleveland that I can in New Orleans. I don't like that there's the same Southwestern Egg Rolls being served in Chili's from San Fransisco to Boston. I don't like that a Grand Slam is a Grand Slam is a Grand Slam at any Denny's you go to at any point in this country.

I feel homogenized. I feel boxed in. I feel like I'm out of options. I feel trapped.

And I feel like I've lost something. I feel like ALL of us, in fact, have lost something. It's the thing that made a group of rag-tag Vikings leave their cold Scandinavian shores and head for greener lands. It's the thing that made people cross the land bridge from what is now Russia to what is now Alaska, thus peopling this continent. It's the thing that made Spanish conquistadors and explorers defy what was known: that the world was not flat and that there was something out there. It's the thing that made a group of Puritan settlers seek a new life in a new world; it's the thing that made millions upon millions of people come to these shores. It's the sense of adventure. It's the sense of wonder. It's the sense of exploration.

And we don't have that anymore.

We've lost that when this country got too fast for its own good. We lost it when Manifest Destiny brought us across this land, full of courage and purpose, only to find the real edge of the world waiting for us. We lost it when we found out the even though the world wasn't flat, there really was an end to it and we gave up looking for something beyond it.

Think about it. How many people refuse to go see a movie based on the opinions of critics? How many people won't pick up a new album or try a different kind of music because there is a certain kind of label or stigma attached to it? How many people make choices now simply by appearance? How many books are now judged by only their covers?

We're scared, and so we retreat to our sure-thing Tom Hanks movies and our American Idol CDs. And we seek refuge from the wild and wooly world in Bob Evans, and in Olive Garden, and at the Outback. We do this because it's safe, because we know that no matter where we are, the biscuits will be good and the bread sticks will be never ending and the onions will be bloomin'.

I'm gonna make an effort to not be afraid. I'm gonna make an effort to try new things. I'm gonna listen to music I never thought I would. I'm going to unplug my GPS, which I, like many others, have become addicted to, and try the back roads. And I encourage you to do the same. Explore. Look around. Take the long way. Skip shortcuts. Get lost. Get found.

And if you ever find yourself on the outskirts of Akron, OH, take a turn down Turkeyfoot Lake Road and head to MT Pocket's Pub and Grill. It's right on the cold and frozen waters of Turkeyfoot Lake, but the people are nothing of the sort. They're warm and happy and friendly. They'll let you in on their local jokes. They'll let you listen to their stories. And they'll call you by your name when you leave, like you've been coming there for years.

Go there. And try the reuben. It's delicious.