My girlfriend and I had set-off on a mini road trip through NY State. I carried with me the dreams of a groovy play list on the ipod, greasy road side cuisine, and stupid games to pass the time. With Dancin’ Queen blasting and our supplies of coffee and candy we crossed the George Washington Bridge to freedom and fresh-air. I’ve road-tripped across Europe, Australia, New Zealand and India, but there's nothing like being on a road trip in the US. Maybe it’s just nostalgia. I feel like I’m partaking in some old tradition like vanilla ice cream and apple pie. The Road Trip is just quintessentially American, following in the footsteps of Jack Kerouac, meandering across Route 66 or going on tour with the Dead.

Nothing sums up my road trips more then a stop at a road side diner. I love getting that greasy grilled cheese sandwich with fries on the side. This time around we stopped for a lunch break somewhere between Scranton, PA and Binghamton, NY. Where you ask? Well, exactly. We did not have a clue and in fact, the moment we got off the highway it felt like we had entered the twilight zone. Who lives out here? And more importantly, why would you live out here? Are these other people at the diner traveling as well or are they locals and this diner is their big fancy meal out? As snotty New Yorkers we stared and pondered at these people and their surroundings like we are watching animals in a zoo.

We were firstly disappointed to find that the closest thing to a road-side diner was the local Friendly’s. It was that or Bennegans, MckyDees or Wendy’s. I had forgotten that most of America is now a series of strips with nothing but fast-food chains, no more Mom & Pop shops. We settled in to our booth and tried to keep our mouths from dropping as we viewed our fellow eating companions. Wow, I know America has an obesity problem, but I suddenly lost my appetite looking at the sizes of the people around us. I wondered how they fit into their seats.

When our sandwiches, er, platters arrived I understood fully. The pile of food was three times the size of my stomach. I poured on the ketchup and picked up a piece of my well anticipated sandwich.

‘UUG!’ What’s that?

It was fake cheese, the chemical tasting kind that McDonald’s uses. What about Kraft cheese or better yet why not use real cheddar cheese? I found myself starting at two greasy pieces of bread with some processed something grilled into it. At that point, I decided the fries with ketchup would be a more neutrinos option. But really, what is a road trip if you can’t count on a good grilled cheese from a road side diner? Disappointed and slightly ill we headed back into the car. Maybe I couldn’t find all the nostalgia in a changing America that I looked forward to, but I was still excited to be on our way to Ithaca where at least we would clear our systems with an all-natural vego diet. I just hoped our road trip didn’t include a ‘pull over so I can puke’ stop.

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