Superman's Hometown

Superman lives in Illinois. You’ll find him just off a highway between St. Louis, Missouri, and Nashville, Tennessee. The only reason I know this is because I made my boyfriend drive me that five hour stretch so I could try the world’s best fried chicken (you’ll find that at Nashville’s Loveless Cafe – make sure to leave room for the fudge pie).

My golden rule of travel is this: your hunger will always tap out the tastiest of itineraries. Need a travel buddy? Look to your stomach.

St. Louis is all about toasted ravioli, and you’ll get the best on The Hill. As you dip, crunch and savour those magic morsels, say thanks to the clumsy chef who knocked ravioli into oil instead of water back in the ‘40s. Nashville is known for its southern-fried chicken, charm and country tunes. We were ready to eat it up.

But first, the highway.

Chugging steadily towards Loveless, we played our That’s A Billboard? road trip game. It works like this: you see a billboard, and you recite what it says.

“Nostalgia-ville USA Nifty Store.”

“That’s a billboard?”

“Fireworks Supermarket.”

“That’s a billboard?”

“Yucko’s Poop Scoop’n Service. Got Poop?”

“That’s a billboard?”

(After a few hours on the road, it’s a phenomenal game.)

And then we saw it. “That sign says ‘Metropolis’. Should we go there?”

“That’s a yes.”

You become impulsive when you’re about to meet Superman. Or, rather, one giant Superman and a heap of smaller Supermen.

In the ‘70s, DC Comics declared Metropolis, Illinois, the “Hometown of Superman” (you’ll learn more facts like this at the sensory-explosion that is The Super Museum!). A fifteen-foot bronze statue of the hero towers over Superman Square. And the only thing to do when confronted with a fifteen-foot bronze statue of Superman is embrace your bewilderment and stage a series of elaborate photos. Hiding between Superman’s sculpted legs? Yep. Flying next to Superman? Get that shot. Pretending to wrestle Superman? It’s like he didn’t see you coming!

Superman lives in Illinois, on the road between St. Louis’ toasted ravioli and Nashville’s southern-fried chicken. I know that because I said yes. Yes to an impulsive detour. Yes to a moment in time. Yes to a small town whose focus is on the most chiseled and most super of all the superheroes.

Treasure the road you didn’t expect to go down, but are bloody glad you did. Now that’s a billboard.