Why do parents insist on dumb vacations? Driving across half the country to look at a hole in AZ, or going to some fake village where people dress goofy and speak like jerks?
Parents are stupid.
I've heard all the "why did we have to come heeeeere" complaints and yet they laugh and hash over the smallest details of the trip. They remember the exact spot where we had to stop to let little brother out to pee the restaurant that had "Jesus Is Lord" on the bottom of the sign and when we got inside beside the menu "Prepare to Meet Thy Doom" it's in Arkansas if anyone wants to try it and the Dr Pepper museum which I can only say don't ever bother going to. You just can't buy memories like these.