Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Top 5 Worst Places in America

First, a note of business: I created this blog not to be a source of constant word vomit about my feelings - I want to actually have something to say when I post an entry.

That said, here's something I've always wanted to document: The Worst Places in America that I've encountered in my numerous family vacations. As a prefatory remark, my family has ties in very random places. My dad's from New Jersey (no, not the cool part of Jersey, I'm talking about South Jersey, in the middle, where nothing exists...), my brother moved to Colorado and compelled us to drive there (the road to Colorado is paved with red, rocky hills, picturesque overlooks, and rednecks), and somehow college hunting found us in the most random college towns that I can imagine.

So without further ado, the worst places in America that I've come across to this date. If anybody that reads this feels differently about those places, feel free to prove me wrong. But you're likely just biased or hold some deep seeded insecurities about your hometown, because this is the truth right here:

5. West Deptford, New Jersey
I hate to be too harsh on this place because my Aunt Linda does still live here, but West Deptford defines every single stereotype that exists about South Jersey. The white trash in mobile homes, the legally separated cousin and his "wife" living with other partners 6 months after the separation, the gaudy Soprano's accents, and the awful smelling dog with an ear infection that never seems to get cured, etc. My memories from Deptford have mostly been blocked from my consciousness, but sometimes I still get flashes of my cousin telling me that the Godfather video game is great because you can "throw women in the street and run them over with cars and shit" and then stopping for a moment, thinking, and saying "you wouldn't understand yet, you aren't married." Family is family though, so I end up in West Deptford every 3-6 years. I seriously hope this portion of my family moves...

4. Rancho Cucamonga, California
I hate desert towns with nothing to do in them. Rancho Cucamonga, quite simply, only exists because there is a shopping mall. Granted, this was a very large, relatively cool shopping mall, but I spent too much time choking on smog and eating in Outback Steakhouse to gain any enjoyment from this attraction. If I wanted to be surrounded by chain-smoking, LA wannabes, I would go to the Valley.

3. Bird-In-Hand, Pennsylvania

In order to avoid unnecessary prejudice against Bird-In-Hand, allow me to mention that I was only six when this incident occurred, and my memory is foggy. This could have happened in any number of the Amish towns that my mother took us to in search of the perfect quilting shop (could have been Paradise or Intercourse for all I remember). However, Bird-In-Hand not only has the most ridiculous name I've ever heard, it is the the setting of one of the most horrifying incidents of my childhood. After a flash snow storm, I ended up stranded outside of a quilt shop in this Amish town with a sneaking suspicion that I needed to use a restroom. Well, as we all know with Amish people, they don't much like technology, or flush toilets, and so I was screwed. And thus, I ended up on the side of a parking lot, with my six-year old johnson in hand attempting to pee before too much snow covered my package. This memory is emblazoned into my mind, and while I don't remember many details about Bird-In-Hand, its inability to provide proper restrooms makes this a shoe-in on my list.

2. Wendover, Nevada/Utah
In my family's adventurous road trip to Colorado to visit my brother, we stumbled across this lovely border town that divides Nevada and Utah. As with all border towns, all the cool stuff is on one side, and all the scary stuff is on the other. Can you take a guess on which side had which? Nevada had its casinos, its alcohol, its interesting people...and we stayed in the Motel 6 on the sketchy Utah side which had a Lucky's and what looked to be quite a few undercover coke dealers. Legally, it would make more sense for Nevada to be the sketchy side, but it seems as if degenerates instead wanted to sneak around the Utah side and entice proper citizens and tourists over to motels on the Nevada side. Apparently the ploy worked, because the only acceptable restaurant in the city for us to go to was the Rainbow Casino's buffet on, guess where, the Nevada side. This wasn't a good buffet either, but then again, are casino buffets ever good?

Regardless, I ended up in a very creepy motel room with a window facing what can only be described as a "mountain of graffiti." Literally, I fell asleep staring at a gigantic, red rock with what I would expect to see in a men's room written all over it. If there ever is a case against Prohibition in Utah, somebody should use Wendover as the example for why alcohol laws should be repealed. Seriously, they can't have helped that much if Wendover is still as awful as it is.

1. Williamsburg, Virginia
Some may think that, compared to some of the small, crap towns that I've dug up for the previous portion of this blog, Williamsburg is a surprising choice as the worst place in America. Let's stick to the facts here, though. Williamsburg is a perpetually hot and humid town located a short drive away from the Atlantic Ocean. Oh yeah, and it's a completely colonial town where half of the residents dress as if they just met Thomas Jefferson for tea to discuss amendments to the Declaration of Independence. I went to Williamsburg to visit William & Mary, and left wondering how a single college student could exist in a place where if they walk 2 blocks, they can see a grown man pretend to be a blacksmith. I want to be as far away from any location where grown men pretend to have professions that were long proved obsolete. This is not to mention the fact that while I was there, it was 110 degrees for the entire day, with 90% humidity. I tolerate heat pretty well, and this place gave me heat stroke. Or perhaps the fact that not a single building in the town was modern enough to have air conditioning or a refrigerator for cold beverages did this. In any case, congratulations Williamsburg, you are the worst place in America.


For those of you adventurers out there, don't let me discourage you from exploring the country. Just be careful, because if it sounds bad (Bird-In-Hand), looks bad (Wendover), then it probably is bad. Happy trails!