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The Comanche Brother: An almost encounter with Johnny Depp

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The rain fell in a steady, rhythmic patter against the car windshield, blurring the edges of the world around us as we cruised past fields of grazing cows. This was my first father-son road trip with my six-year-old, Liam, a journey we’d both been looking forward to. Our destination? Lawton, Oklahoma, to attend the much-anticipated Comanche Festival. The trip stretched about an hour and a half, and in a moment of preemptive wisdom, I had gifted Liam a Nintendo 3DS to keep him entertained. From the backseat, he excitedly called out every new move he made in his LEGO Jack Sparrow game, eager to share each moment of his adventure. I nodded along, stealing glances in the rearview mirror, but my eyes stayed fixed on the road, accompanied by the familiar crooning of Kings of Leon on the stereo. As we rolled into Lawton, there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air. I’d heard rumors that Johnny Depp had recently been made an honorary brother of the Comanche tribe and that he would be a...
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The City that Never Sleeps (New York 2010)

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Aug 20 th My alarm was set for 3:30 a.m., but naturally, I woke up closer to 4:00. Which is to say, my body politely informed me that booking a hotel until 11 the night before was not compatible with the fantasy of a predawn wake-up call. I scrambled some eggs, more out of duty than hunger, and I headed to Dad’s place. Dad greeted me with the casual confession that he’d stayed up until two or three in the morning, which really set the tone for the day: none of us were properly functioning adults, but at least we were going to New York. I waited on dad to wake up and get ready. Then, we rushed to the airport and waited in line to check dad’s bag. We were barely there in time. We flew 30 minutes to Dallas, blinked, and suddenly we were on a much longer flight to New York. The View from the Hotel Once on the ground, we tried to solve the eternal New York riddle: cheap, fast, or easy—pick two. Naturally, we picked cheap. Twenty-six bucks for a seven-day MetroCard, a bus, a subway ride...
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Going Dutch (Netherlands 2009)

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3 AM. I woke up, gave up on the idea of “real sleep,” and decided to just surrender to the broken-night haze. A few hours later, Sal and I were dragging ourselves onto a plane for the next layover: five hours in Amsterdam, Netherlands. The flight was short, and I dozed most of the way, saving what little energy I had. When we landed, our wallets were as empty as our eyelids were heavy. Still, adventure called, and we followed the signs out of the airport in search of the train. Fifteen euros lighter, we had a pair of round-trip tickets to Amsterdam city center clutched in our hands and another stamp on our passport. Sal and I were pretty irritable from lack of sleep, which made a strange combination for the amount of excitement we had to see a new city. The first breath outside hit me like a reset button—cool, crisp air that felt both foreign and invigorating. We eventually got on the correct train to the city after asking a few people. We boarded the train, snapping a few photos ...
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Contae Chorcaí Go Bragh (Ireland 2009)

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We boarded the plane with a mix of anticipation and exhaustion. It was one of those smaller planes that board from both the front and the back, and you had to climb the steps outside like you were either a rock star or a political figure about to wave at a crowd. First time I’d ever done it, and I felt a little like the latter, minus the Secret Service. Inside, the cabin was buzzing with Irish accents. Even the safety briefing sounded lyrical, especially when they repeated everything in Gaelic. I couldn’t understand a word of it, but it felt ancient, magical — like the airplane might transform into a flying pub at any second. The flight itself was short, just long enough to remind me that I’d picked the wrong snack before boarding. Before I knew it, we were descending into Cork, green patchwork fields rolling out beneath us. At the airport we met Ken, our ride and guide. As the van wound through narrow roads, the scenery kept us glued to the windows: emerald fields dotted with cows, he...
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