COLUMN: Travelogue

Sometimes -- but not often -- I can be a (gasp) nice guy. Don't tell anyone, I've got a rep to maintain.

We've got a new manager at work. He comes to us from a far-off distant land called Peoria. Soon he'll procure some real estate, move his family up here, and begin the long and arduous process of becoming a Quad Citizen. Until then, he's living out of a hotel and commuting home on the weekends.

I couldn't imagine the difficulties of a temporary arrangement like that, but I suppose I've got SOME idea. I spent my first years here living in a dorm room and commuting back to Galesburg to see my family. The tedium of the I-74 stretch between here and Galesburg is barely tolerable. Double it and you're in Peoria. The last time I drove from here to Peoria, a pothole made mincemeat out of not one but TWO of my tires. I feel his pain.

Regardless of where you hail from, it'd be a little intimidating to be stuck in a hotel room trying to make sense of a strange town, let alone four strange towns across two states while the main artery connecting them all is under attack. Welcome to the Quad Cities: Land of A Thousand Detours.

So I, being the aforementioned nice guy that I am, offered to take him out, drive him around, and show him all the important things he needs to see and know about our Quad Cities.

Okay, so maybe it's less about me being a nice guy and more about me trying to suck up to the new boss. But I remember what it was like arriving here my freshman year at Augie, not knowing a soul or how to get from Point A to Point B. I'd get lost on the daily. The first time I accidentally turned onto Arsenal Island, I had a panic attack assuming I was trespassing on a military installation. One time I got lost, crossed the Rock River, and thought Milan was Iowa. I needed a buddy (or at least a GPS) back then, and if I can help somebody make heads or tails of this place now, I'm happy to.

I have no idea if he'll take me up on my offer, but it got me thinking. If you had the opportunity to introduce a new arrival to the Quad Cities, what would you show them? I started daydreaming about my optimal Quad Cities travelogue, and I think I've got the basics down pat:

• This wet part here is called the Mississippi River. It flows north to south, except here where it flows east to west because the Quad Cities is cooler than physics. Oh, and except in spring, when it flows pretty much any damn place it wants. You DO own a pair of waders, right?

• This little boat is called the Channel Cat. It's a leisurely way to see the river. It's also currently the fastest means of crossing it.

• Okay, this is 12th Avenue. Except in East Moline, when it's 30th Avenue. And in Silvis, when it's Crosstown Avenue. Don't worry, you'll get used to it.

• Alright, see this big abandoned lot? Once upon a time, it was Watchtower Plaza. Then Rock Island turned into a field in hopes that magically a Wal-Mart would appear. We're still waiting.

• This is called a pizza. Yes, I realize how flat it is. Yes, I know there's enough cheese to clog the arteries of 3-5 fully grown adults. Yes, I realize it's cut into rectangles. Just shut up and eat it. Then you'll understand.

• Speaking of food, this place on your right serves the Quad Cities' most cherished culinary treat. That's right, it IS just cheese and beef poured over hash browns and toast. You got a problem with that?

• This is Harrison Street. Say, you don't happen to own a truck that's taller than 11'8", do you? Why am I asking? No reason...

• Here we have Moline's Riverside Cemetery. Did you know it was built by the "Father of the Skyscraper"? Neither did I til I just read it on Wikipedia. Now, get out of the car and go walk around that grave three times counter-clockwise while chanting "Nothing runs like a Deere." You'll either summon the ghost of John Deere or give me an awesome photo opportunity.

• Speaking of our ghostly friend, here's the John Deere Pavilion in downtown Moline. Inside you can learn all about the man, his innovative company, and the science behind modern agricultural equipment. Or you can just climb onboard a combine the size of New Hampshire and yell "VROOM!" while you pretend to be a farmer. Either way, it's culturally enriching.
 
• This here is the crown jewel of the Quad Cities and sums up everything I love about this crazy town. Behold the majestic downtown Davenport Skybridge that connects nothing to nothing. Let's say you want to cross River Drive here. You could either wait thirty seconds for this stoplight to change... OR you could climb five stories, walk across a nausea-inducing psychedelic light show, and climb back down. Ta-da! The convenience it affords us all is priceless. Actually, no, the convenience it affords us is apparently worth $7 million dollars, because that's how much it cost to build. What can I say? When we connect nothing to nothing, we do it in STYLE. 

• Oh, and here's some chocolate and ice cream and an art museum and a ballpark and a record store and a bar with video games and a college and a university and eleventy different microbreweries and parks and coffee shops and concert venues and antique stores and festivals and neighborhoods and some of the nicest people you'll ever meet.

Welcome home.