Maybe the elitist “swamp” dwellers should look around a bit
Saddled Up on the Trail
My flight departed Rome Italy around 1 p.m. on Apr. 1, 2002 en route to Moscow aboard Aeroflot Flight
282. It was my first of what would later turn out to be many trips to The Russian Federation.
A well-educated Italian man sit next to me on the flight.
We visited on the long flight about a host of topics but his interest in geopolitics was surprisingly even greater than my own.
If you ever travel abroad don’t be surprised when western European’s likely marvel, envy, and resent your status as an American citizen all at the same time.
The man kept asking me if I could imagine the fall of the U.S.
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