Some observations from a few days on the East Coast:

—Everyone in New York City moves fast with a sense of urgency, except the tourists. The average pace of tourists is about the same pace as on the downtown Minneapolis streets and skyways. What does that say about us?

—Passing through Baltimore evoked a credits sequence from HBO’s The Wire: block upon block of boarded-up row houses, streets deserted of cars and people except the odd African-American male. If this isn’t the most troubled inner city in America, it’s the runner-up.

—Anyone who thinks this country has shut its doors to Middle Easterners or Muslims should just spend a weekend in Arlington, Va. Most of the folks I encountered in the town were are immigrants speaking heavily accented English. Assimilating these folks into American culture is going to be a fascinating challenge, one that Europe has failed at.

—If New York is the gateway to America, then New York’s airports are a piss-poor statement to the world. Decrepit, poorly cared for, woefully underbuilt for the volumes of traffic they deal with, and besieged with flight delays caused by airline over scheduling and FAA inefficiency, Kennedy and Newark (LaGuardia has international traffic only from Canada) are emblematic of a nation in decline. LAX and O’Hare are close behind.

—Amtrak has been bashed by idiot Republicans and transportation-ignorant types for decades, but the Midwest can only dream of the dense network of fast, frequent Amtrak trains that knit together the Eastern Seaboard. Imagine taking the train to Chicago in five hours, door to door, with no TSA, no ground stops, no fuel surcharges, and employees who are no meaner than on the plane. Don’t hold your breath.

—New Yorkers like Jesse Ventura and were puzzled that he decided not to run for Senate because of the intrusiveness of the Minnesota media. It’s my opinion that the only establishment more ingrained and mediocre than our state legislature is our capitol press corps, which received Ventura’s contempt and doubled down during his governorship. It says something about Ventura’s toughness that he won’t go toe to toe with the media but never has the coverage of an elected official been as harsh than during his tenure. Ventura’s record as Governor is undeserving of the derision.

—Chain-food establishments, such as Starbucks, now have to post calorie counts alongside their food displays. Good for New York. In a nation lumbering toward collective obesity, obsessed with quantity over quality and perceived value, it’s information people deserve.

So it has come to this. Now, I’m not one of those locals who wants to see the local-boys-and-girls-made-good fail, but after a quarter century in these parts, I never cease to marvel over why a story’s connection to us is still the most important aspect of the story?

Why do we only hear about the elephant mauling in Thailand if an ex-Minnesotan was mauled? Why do so many of us see the attention we receive from out-of-town media or celebrities as validating our worth rather than noblesse oblige, which it more often is? Why are so may of us so indifferent to our region investing in dreaming big, competing with other cities, and making a national splash yet then so obsessed with it when it happens?

The Chicago Tribune did not lead Monday’s paper with “ex-Chicagoan Diablo Cody . . .” in a headline nor was the fact that Cody grew up in suburban Lamont mentioned until the thirteenth paragraph—though her connection with Chicago is no different than the Coens’ with Minnesota (grew up here, parents here, visit irregularly).

And what makes the matter more ironic is that neither Cody nor the Coens claims this place as their home. Minnesota is somewhere they left and ain’t coming back to. Fargo told you everything you know about how the Coens’ view Minnesota. It set the Twin Cities back about a generation in how the country perceives us: as a bunch of affable rubes driving Oldsmobiles in the snow.

Diablo Cody had a cup of coffee here. She did some notable work (the feather in our cap in all this, perhaps), got discovered, and split. She speaks of us affectionately.

Both the Coens and Cody are compelling stories. They stand out in Hollywood because they are nonconformists and have maintained an admirable artistic integrity. They have an interesting body of work (Cody not so much, obviously), and their Minnesota status is deserving of little more than a passing mention in the third paragraph because it is not at the heart of their success or interest.

Embedded in our fascination with the lives of our émigrés is our insularity, our provincialism, and sometimes our hubris—that sense that life and people are just better here, and now and then the world finds out. Just the sort of hothouse attitude in which creative people flourish.