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Count yourself lucky
By Michael Johnson
Whalesong Staff
If you are ever
traveling in India, or Greece, or anywhere in the world and you
need a conversation starter, tell a local that you’re from
Alaska. Then quickly take a step back so you don’t get hit
by slobber as their incredulity and curiosity comes gushing out.
“You’re the first person I’ve met from Alaska!”
is typically the initial response followed by an irrational igloo
question and a rough recap of the 78 million National Geographic
specials on our beautiful land. You’ll be bombarded with attention,
and rightfully so.
We Alaskans are an exotic breed, and the only American
state that instantly becomes an independent nation the second you
cross an ocean. While there are about 13 zillion countries where
it is now “unsafe” for Americans to travel (thanks, George),
we Alaskans can slide by just fine. Sadly, our genes and blue jeans
commonly give our official nationality away before we even have
a chance to reveal our northern roots. Nevertheless, it is always
wise to create this state separation in tense situations because
most foreigners cannot take seriously, much less condemn people
from a misconceived land of igloos and ice, even if they know that
land to be part of the U.S.A.
This all sounds unpatriotic, doesn’t it? That’s
because it is, so I must clarify something: I love America, despite
my disagreement with how many issues are handled, and have no problem
with being an American. But it’s easy to be patriotic when
your enemies are thousands of miles away. Try being the only caucasion
at a nightclub in New Delhi, and then your “friends” and
others begin bashing America and taking credit for lethal terrorist
acts, while giving you a stare that doesn’t bother to blink.
See how Alaskan you quickly become.
It’s great to be Alaskan by national standards, though, too.
Everyone in the Lower 48 is jealous, even if they don’t admit
it. And why shouldn’t they be? We got it all… unparalleled
natural beauty, the Permanent Fund Dividend, twice as big as Texas
and a population that is equal to peanuts. No glaring sun to redden
our necks, we can pronounce words like “coffee,” we don’t
marry our cousins or consider cow-tipping quality entertainment.
Damn, it’s good to be Alaskan.
When I was in high school, like many of my classmates
I dreamed of the day I could leave Alaska for someplace better,
far, far away. But ironically enough, the more places I visited,
the more I appreciated Alaska. Its image only sharpens by comparison.
I discovered I come from the very place where countless dream to
reach. Three years and four new continents later, here I am. Home.
Damn, it’s good to be Alaskan.
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