A German invasion.

My German cousin Fritz. And two of his buddies. Dieter and Dirk. They’ve come to the USA. To travel. In German style. Which means having lots of fun. On the cheap. And ignoring the summertime heat. In the American South and Southwest. They flew in last week.   From Frankfurt. To Washington, D.C. Then to Las Vegas. Where I met them and spent three days. No, we hardly gambled. Fritz and Dieter were winners. About $25 each. I lost 90 cents. Didn’t go to any shows.  Instead, we journeyed into the Valley of Fire. Named, I presume, after the blazing red rocks. We also ventured into Death Valley. Where the afternoon temperature peaked at 114 degrees.  In the shade, of course.  Could have fried an egg. In the sunshine.  Anyway, the Germans are driving a rental car. A Chevy Impala. Down to the Grand Canyon. They’ll take Route 66 East. Through Arizona and New Mexico. Then across godforsaken Texas. And into Louisiana. With a stopover in New Orleans. They’ll get a taste of Southern cooking and confederacy-loving bigots in Alabama and Georgia and South Carolina and North Carolina. Before ending up, in three weeks, in the nation’s capitol once again.  For the return flight to Deutschland. They’ll mix well in America. I’m sure. Traveling with an open mind. And curiosity. This is Fritz’s 10th trip to the U.S. He loves America. More than I do. But then, I’m in love with the entire world. With life, period. I’d even adjust to life in hell (aka Texas).  –Jim Broede