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In defense of the road trip: Why it's almost always better to drive than fly

In defense of the road trip: Why it's almost always better to drive than fly

News_Road Tripping Saint James
Aerially is no way to experience Missouri's wine country
News_Road Tripping Henrichshaus
I'd delay my travels any day for a day on the Heinrichshaus "sylvan terrace"
News_Road Tripping Mitch Heinrich
It's not every day you meet a wine-maker with a penchant for mesh tees
New_Road Tripping Heinrichs cat
Or his cat, Ranger
News_Road Tripping St James Seating
We'd have never enjoyed St. Jame's so-romantic seating area if we'd flown
News_Road Tripping Meramec
We were deliberately delayed for some time at Meramec Vineyards
News_Road Tripping Saint James
News_Road Tripping Henrichshaus
News_Road Tripping Mitch Heinrich
New_Road Tripping Heinrichs cat
News_Road Tripping St James Seating
News_Road Tripping Meramec

There is much to be said for eschewing air travel in favor of a good, old-fashioned road trip — as my recent pilgrimage to a friend’s wedding in the middle of Missouri proved.

Air travel seems to be becoming increasingly unreliable, and until the Airbus is the norm, I'll gladly trade the extra travel time for more leg room.

The Boyfriend and my trek across the heart of America spanned 12 hours of driving, six for-the-occasion playlists, five wineries, four days and countless revelations — revelations that would’ve surely been missed if we’d swooped in-and-out on the wings of some too-crowded airplane.

Revelation Number One: Missouri has what it believes to be a wine country. Four wineries down, I began to agree. We got romantical at St. James Winery over a bottle of Reisling and the VERY nearby rush of traffic on Interstate 44 and had our last sip on the “sylvan terrace” at Heinrichshaus winery, a living-slash-tasting room down a cattle-lined dirt road.

We had the luck to encounter Heinrich himself, in a mesh shirt, overalls and holey straw hat, whose haus had more of a scrap-metal strewn clearing than a terrace — though was no less enjoyable for it.

Revelations Number Two and Three: Cows don’t like to be touched. People that own cows would also rather their cows not be touched.

Revelation Number Four: Seven and seven never gets old. At 82 years young, The Boyfriend’s grandmother left the younger set to wakeboard ourselves to fatigue during a day-long stop at Indian Hills Lake and entertained herself with a little whiskey and pop and a good puzzle.

Although she does admit the jello shot she tried just before dinner was a first.

Revelation Number Five: Lion’s Den is an adult superstore. Lions Club is the best wedding reception venue ever. You don’t have to mess with valet parking, it’s virtually indestructible and it has a dugout for optimum pre-reception drinking and mid-reception sneaky make out-ing.

My friend’s wedding and the accompanying sorority sister reunion was everything I could’ve hoped for and more (the more being the Busch Lite cans they served) but I’m thinking the getting there — and the self-imposed slowdowns — was half the fun.

Travel delays suffered gladly and by choice are infinitely superior to those inflicted by circumstance. So, where possible, I say to road trip it — probably best with people you know.