Sometimes you see a headline and a byline and you think, “I know exactly what this is going to be.” Drew Magary visiting a national park is one of those times. Magary has mellowed considerably since the Kissing Suzy Kolber days—a traumatic brain injury will do that—and by now he’s the closest thing Gen X has to Dave Barry, which I mean as a sincere compliment. So yes, you’ll want to read this.
Was I jealous that Aaron got to see wolves and I didn’t? Yes. Was I jealous other tourists got to see grizzly bears and wolves house a dead buffalo? Yes. Would I have gotten too close to that orgy of death because my phone camera’s zoom abilities are total shit? Yes. Am I good at controlling my impulses? No. Because the grade-schooler in me was crushed that he was surrounded by so much natural beauty but couldn’t touch any of it. I couldn’t touch the bison. I couldn’t ride a geyser. I couldn’t even BASE-jump into a fucking canyon. And Big Government had the gall to charge me $35 to get in? I pay taxes, man. I should be able to do what I want!
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