Here's a little gem from the Huffington Post
with a South-as-safari premise: Two Manhattan liberals, freelance writer Samantha Marshall and fellow blogger Nelson Montana, road trip in search of the other America, the one belonging to Glenn Beck's tears and Sarah Palin's garbled thought. Main Street, America, whatever the hell that is.
After traveling through Virginia, the two stopped at Braedon's BBQ in Kingport, Tenn., laughably spelled "King's Port" in the story. With a New York license plate like a bullseye, they were a little nervous about our legislature's recent subservience to the gun lobby and the frothing gun nuts we know all too well on this blog.
But they downed some allegedly delicious ribs without incident. Only Marshall left her wallet in the bathroom. She called from the road and, with renowned Southern honesty, was apprised that her wallet was safe and sound at Braedon's. This was probably a big surprise, because normally one might safely assume that if you leave your wallet somewhere in NYC, you may as well kiss it goodbye. (Note: To be fair, I left a cool pair of Ray Ban's in a restaurant here one evening, called the next morning and the shades were nowhere to be found. My bad, obviously, but the North isn't the only place where dishonesty breeds)
"We did not see a single "tea party." Most people we met wanted to talk to us about food, family, their vacations in our city and what we thought of their towns. At all the cafes and rib shacks where we sampled homemade biscuits and heavenly variations on pork, locals would spot our New York license plate and seek us out for pleasant conversation. Nashville was a bust, but at least we discovered that Southerners don't hate us."