...except this guy, of course.
I visited good 'ol Chanute, Kansas this weekend to visit the dashing man you see pictured above.
I don't know what it is about Chanute, but I really do love it there. Ain't a whole lot going on, however. Even the mechanic who changed my oil the day I left looked at me like I was loony bird for going.
"So where ya headed?" he asked.
"Chanute, actually," came my reply.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
Oh ye of little imagination! Martin and I have plenty of adventures anytime I come for a visit.
One of the highlights of the weekend was the bowling tournament Martin and I played against eachother in the lone bowling alley in Chanute.
Look at that concentration. Pure, glistening excellence.
In all seriousness, I suck at bowling. See, if there is one thing that I have learned about Mr. Martin is that he is good at everything. I say this without bitterness, mind you.
Ok, who are we kidding? I cannot play games with that man because he will beat me despite my best efforts. You name it: chess, pool, Monopoly (oh, don't even get me started on bloody Monopoly), Scrabble, and now...bowling. It's incredibly infuriating.
Don't let the poses fool you. He's a beast.
He creamed me in four, count 'em, four games.
Shut up, bowling ball.
In all honesty, I know the reason I love Chanute is because Martin is my reason for going there. Besides, who else would do this with me?
Yes, that's right. Before it goes the way of the dodo in terms of all internet memes, Martin and I tried the whole planking thing. I'm sure planking is pase by now, but I do respect his enthusiasm.
The merry-go-round was a bit trickier.
Of course, I had to give it a go.
Martin's story is something that continues to fascinate me. He has literally been all over the world. He was born in Manila and grew up between there and Hong Kong. His dad was fortunate enough to get a work visa and brought his family here to California, then Chicago, all the way to....Chanute, Kansas.
But had it not been for God's glorious, mystifying Divine Providence that brought him all the way from across the world to this tiny town of no more than 10,000, he and I would never have met.
I would hope, then, that it makes sense that I would love Chanute, despite its natives protesting to the contrary.
They would only be so lucky.