Travels with My Best Friend

My Best Friend and I look forward to the last court session in July like we were still teenagers. Heading out on the open road in our sweet ride, the Le Mirage Marathon XL, is as invigorating as a cool ocean breeze on Runaway Bay, Jamaica, which, believe me, is quite overrated as that is one unbearably sticky, humid island. Truth be told, for me there’s nothing as thrilling as the view in the rearview mirror of the Washington Monument fading into the background as we set out on our summer vacay. (The missus, who most people don’t realize is quite the scamp, calls it ‘George’s Johnson’).

     The idea of driving long distances may seem a chore to most people, but for us real pleasure is found in the stopovers, the freedom to change our destinations on a whim, and the opportunity to see the Real America. By that I mean the heartland, the country that most of my liberal colleagues have never set foot in and regard with thinly veiled contempt. I’ve personally heard one justice refer to the “flyover states” and another call Big Macs “artery blockers.” Well, they can nibble on their Ceasar salads at our lunches, but personally, I need some solid protein to get me through the endless footnotes my law clerks come up with.

     We especially like to spend our evenings meeting up with the regular folks that make this country great. For that reason, our favorite places to park at night are Walmart parking lots. I know, I know, for many this may seem a bit tawdry, perhaps unbefitting for one of the nation’s leading jurists. But take my word for it, those lots are alive with excitement and adventure: Youngsters racing each other with a jockey sitting in a shopping cart, skateboarders slaloming around parked cars and vans, all illuminated by the gentle blue glow of the Walmart sign. Oh, sure, some kids may be sneaking a beer or two, but most are just like us, regular folks looking for nothing more than the opportunity to soak up the pleasures of a cool summer night.

     Don’t get me wrong. My Best Friend and I have travelled abroad extensively. We’ve had the good fortune to make friends who have taken us to exotic locales in some pretty fancy modes of transport. I’m here to tell you that I’ll take our comfy Marathon RV any day over the cramped, narrow seats of a small airplane or the pitching and rolling of a sailboat (even the ones they call yachts have pretty small beds). And winding up in a country where the natives don’t speak English? Not for me, amigo.

     No doubt it's been a tough year back in Washington. Not only have I been personally vilified, but some scurrilous reporters have gone after my Best Friend and of course the former President seems to be on the hit list of every left-wing prosecutor. But as long as I can get out on the road in the summer, the sacrifice of working as an underpaid civil servant is probably worth it.

printed in Humortimes magazine