Come for the candidates; stay for the adventure

I RECKON we're all supposed to puff up with civic pride when a presidential candidate visits. But, frankly, I'm not feeling so puffy.

Oh, sure, it's a nice gesture. When a Barack Obama (who's scheduled to visit Chesapeake today) or a John McCain (who's undoubtedly heading this way to help fledgling maverick Rep. Thelma Drake) swoops into town, it's a visible sign that we're important - or, at the very least, that there's someone nearby willing to host a fundraiser.

But perhaps I'm a bit underwhelmed because I've been let down by campaign visits before. In 1992, I joined an eager horde of locals in my hometown of Fredericksburg to watch George Bush the Elder climb onto a platform on the city's main drag and speechify.

The president's aides chose Goolrick's Modern Pharmacy, an old-fashioned drugstore with a soda fountain, as a backdrop. After the speech, he and his entourage trundled up to another local institution, a hardware store run by a battalion of knowledgeable old guys who helped George Washington fix his plumbing and James Monroe retile his kitchen.

The last I heard, the soda fountain is still serving great milkshakes, but the hardware store and the old guys have been supplanted by condos. As for Bush, he delivered a forgettable speech about what great shape the economy was in, and you know what happened to him.

I suspect most of us would have fonder memories of the visit if Bush had warned us about the hardware store's closure, or at least cautioned us that his son George could be a real hammerhead. I suppose I expect too much from politicians, though.

For better or worse, the candidates have obviously located Virginia and Hampton Roads on a map. But it appears the good folks at National Geographic have lost us entirely.

The September issue of National Geographic Adventure magazine includes a big spread on the "50 next great adventure towns." At first glance, "next" seems like a bit of a backhanded compliment. But we don't even get the back of the hand.

Boston is on the list, which must be a relief to the folks there after all these years. Girdwood, Alaska, home of the can-you-believe-he-was-only-just-now-indicted Sen. Ted Stevens, made the cut.

Leavenworth, Wash., is in the top 50. (I'm assuming this isn't a typo, and the editors didn't mean Kansas.)

Only one place in Virginia, Charlottesville, is featured, presumably because of its renown as the home of Thomas Jefferson and - uh, I dunno - Larry Sabato.

But Hampton Roads has been disrespected. It's nowhere on the list. Couldn't the magazine have at least given us an honorable mention as sorta next great?

Have the editors ever traveled in our modern tunnels? The stop-and-go, the stop-and-go and the stoooop of tunnel travel truly can be exhilarating. In fact, it's so exciting, politicians are contemplating charging for the adventure everywhere it occurs.

And what about Virginia Beach? Forbes magazine recently named it one of the hardest-drinking cities in the nation. Booze often leads to adventure, right? Sleep, sometimes, yes - which might explain the City Council's somniferous nature - but adventure mostly.

How about Norfolk, where art is a virtual Everest expedition? All peaks must be discreetly covered, with a paper plate or something similarly suitable. But prudishness can be rollicking good fun.

We also have Portsmouth, where you, too, could be police-chief-for-a-day, or maybe even help state Sen. Louise Lucas figure out a new way to try to pry public money loose for her hotel/conference center project.

And I would be remiss if I did not mention Hampton Roads' toll-booth cousin, northeastern North Carolina, where I recently took up residence.

Why, there's Moyock, the international headquarters of Blackwater, the very definition of adventure. Or misadventure, depending on which side of a grand jury you're standing.

There's the Outer Banks, where ORV drivers and birdwatchers have developed a really nifty Hatfield-and-McCoy-in-flip-flops feud. And there's Chowan County, where the commissioners are such risk-takers they don't bother reading their annual budgets or audits. Tax dollars? Wheee!

So, c'mon over, National Geographic. We're at least as much fun as Leavenworth - Washington or Kansas.

Daryl Lease is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot. Reach him at (757) 446-2441 or daryl.lease@pilotonline.com.