 Tell Jim Where to Go
By Jim Shahin
Jessica and I have finally returned to the White House. It’s been a few years, but the place is pretty much the same as we remember it. Lines of people outside. A purposeful bustle inside. And, of course, the gigantic sandwiches.
“The Italian, the cheesesteak, the meatball,” I say. “I can’t decide. Let’s get one of each.”
“You think we need all that?” Jessica asks.
“It’s the White House,” I reply. “When are we going to be back?”
Our sandwiches come. Each one is the length of my arm. I plunge in, taking a deep bite of the cheesesteak. Between my hands, the crusty, chewy sub roll mooshes the thinly sliced beef, all gooey with melted provolone, and yields a bite at once exquisite and powerful.
I look over at Jessica, who has just bitten into the other half. She looks content — not quite like she does when she’s doing yoga, but close.
“I am so glad,” she says, “we decided to come to New Jersey.”
What? You thought I was talking about the White House in Washington, D.C.?
No, no, no, no, no. My guess is that you can’t even get a decent tuna-fish sandwich there, let alone a full-scale, world-class sub.
What I’m talking about is the White House Sub Shop in Atlantic City.
Fate brought us here. Fate, and a little planning.
On our drive north from Cape May, a snow globe of Victoriana on the New Jersey shore, our car’s dashboard lit up like a pinball machine. We rolled into the nearest dealership, which, as luck would have it, was just a few blocks from the White House.
“This,” I said to Jessica, “is like a sign. We’re lucky is all I can say.”
We could have gone to Paris. Or to Machu Picchu. Or even to Northern California.
But, in the end, Jessica and I decided we’d take our weeklong vacation in New Jersey.
Not that New Jersey isn’t a vacation paradise or anything. It’s got your boardwalks, your casinos, and your pistachio polyester shirt-and-shorts sets, as these smart ensembles are called in your better men’s shops.
Still, compared with the romance of Paris or the ancient glory of Machu Picchu or the wine country of Northern California, New Jersey as a destination seems somehow — and don’t ask me how — like a punch line to one of the many cruel and (mostly) untrue jokes about the state.
The question, then, is, as the Talking Heads once memorably put it, how did I get here?
Sometimes a decision to go somewhere on vacation is straightforward: It’s just somewhere you have always wanted to visit. It’s that simple. But more often it’s more complicated than that. After all, there are a lot of places you have always wanted to visit. Why this particular one?
This, specifically, is how we ended up in Jersey:
1. We couldn’t go to Paris. We intended to, but then we found that Jessica’s passport had expired.
2. The weather in the Grand Tetons in early April is sketchy.
3. We didn’t want to visit California without our son, Sam, and he wanted to stay home.
4. The flights to everywhere else we wanted to go were full.
5. Jersey is within driving distance of our home in Washington, D.C.
6. I used to go to Cape May every summer as a kid.
7. Jessica and I like Cape May.
8. Jessica and I love the White House. (So we probably would have gone there even if our car hadn’t broken down — although its breaking down turned that probability into a definite.)
Kind of mundane, huh?
Well, the summer yawns ahead, and with it comes a second chance to get our vacation right. Jessica has her passport now. All we need is a place to go.
So, this is your chance to tell me where to go. Uh, let me rephrase: Tell me where I should go on vacation — and why.
How do you pick between, say, the Rockies, the Andes, and the Alps? Or between the Alps and the Great Pyramids? Or between the Great Pyramids and Paris? Or between Paris and a road trip through British Columbia?
Send me your top choice of a place I should visit and your reasoning. Do it in 100 words or less. Include your name, address, phone number, and e-mail address. Without all of that, your submission will not even be read (official — and much lengthier — rules are available at www.americanwaymag.com). Send it to me at jimshahinworld@aol.com by July 1, 2007.
I’ll write a story that will appear in an upcoming issue (and on our website), and I’ll include a few of the suggestions/reasonings I receive.
The submission I like the most will win 100,000 AAdvantage miles, which should be plenty to get you where you want to go.
And maybe I’ll visit the victorious destination — if I decide it beats New Jersey.
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