In Search of the Giant Orange

In Search of the Giant Orange

I was sitting in the Poodle Dog Restaurant in Fife, eating lunch and admiring their poodle dog figurine collection. I had heard rumors that the town of Fife had a giant orange -- a concrete one, from the "duck" school of architecture -- but the waitress thought the nearest one was California. She might be right.

Down the road I discovered a drive-thru cigarette establishment defying current mores; in Seattle I found the words "Wonder Bread" etched across the late afternoon sky, as if the clouds were sending subliminal messages; in Snohomish a giant ice cream cone stands among the evergreens, and in Kingman, Arizona two neon martini glasses compete with the "Jesus is Lord" proclamation depicting true and surreal American diversity. But still, no orange. I am still looking.

This is my odyssey, to seek out the weird little pieces of American culture -- that which still has a personality instead of the slick, calculated world of the consumption makers or the bland clutter of strip malls. Everyone finds the America he is looking for.

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