When traveling abroad (and in the US), I try to be a good tourist. I dress quietly. I carry a map, try to speak the local language, eat what the locals eat and avoid anything that makes me look too American (or, worse, Midwestern). But by the last couple of days of any trip overseas, I lose my cool and unravel. It usually involves large amounts of alcohol and/or McDonalds. I drank so much Rum and Coke in Cuernavaca, Mexico that on the bus trip back to Mexico City I stuck my head out the window of the bus and puked into traffic. All in front of my mother-in-law, who wasn't my mother-in-law yet. Thank goodness for the McDonald's in the Mexico City airport.
In Amsterdam, John and I were so tired we read in an English bookstore in the train station. And found McDonalds. We've also been to McDonald's in Paris and Prague.
On the most recent trip to Garmisch Partenkirchen, Germany, we watched this clip of the Family Guy in the town square on an iphone, laughed way too loudly and wound up at McDonald's the next day. Because I am an Midwesterner and ich liebe es.
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