The Grand Canyon. Ze Grande Canyone. You know what, if Starbucks had its way, this would be called the Venti Canyon, because yes it’s the absolute equivalent of a two litre coffee. It’s so mammoth that you don’t really believe someone’s actually drinking that, are they insane? Do they realise the number of hairs they’ll pull out from fidgeting and the carpet which will be worn thin by the constant pacing?! Clearly not. And unless you can handle your shit, don’t order it because those who can’t *coughguywhositsrightnearmecough*, coffee buzzes are so not cool to the people around you.
But anyway, vented (ah, hah, vented the venti, I am so not funny).
Now, the Grand Canyon. Without doubt the absolute highlight of my little American sojourn, and my only regret is that we weren’t able to spend more time down in the gaping big hole, contemplating life and our seriously insignifcant contribution towards this magnificent world of ours.
Law enforced by the Native Americans mandate that we (terrible folk who are destroying the natural beauty one gravel at a time) can only touch down for 30 minutes, and so we touch, we click-click-click away and we’re off. It’s that fast, but wait! This being the tour that I joined, we also had lunch inside the Grand Canyon. I mean, what’s life without food, right? High five!