You’re probably not surprised to learn that taking a nap is my favorite thing to do on an airplane.
One of the great things about my job is that I get to travel all over the world to meet Duck Dynasty fans. I’m telling you, I have become one of the world’s most sophisticated men.
During the past few years, I’ve been to Germany, Hawaii, Scotland, Mexico, and the Bahamas. I’ve traveled on cruise ships, private jets, high-speed trains, and helicopters. I’ve been to exotic places like Okeechobee, Florida; Spokane, Washington; and Des Moines, Iowa. Hey, the Dos Equis beer guy doesn’t always travel, but when he does, he calls Silas Merritt Robertson for travel advice before he goes anywhere.
When we’re not filming episodes of Duck Dynasty or hunting or fishing, I’m usually headed somewhere to speak at a church, college, or charitable organization. Being on the road isn’t easy, and I’m sure glad I never had to work as a traveling salesman. I could have never made a living going door-to-door trying to sell things like encyclopedias and steak knives.
Hey, I’ll never forget the time a vacuum cleaner salesman showed up at our house when I was a kid. My momma answered the front door, and as soon as the salesman opened his mouth, she said, “We don’t have any money. I’m not interested.”
But the salesman wedged his foot in the door so Momma couldn’t close it.
“Hey, don’t be so sure,” he said. “After this demonstration, I promise that you’ll want two of what I’m selling.”
The salesman proceeded to dump a bag of fresh horse manure on the rug of our foyer.
“Ma’am, if this vacuum cleaner doesn’t completely clean up this mess, I’ll personally eat whatever is left,” he said.
Momma looked at the poor guy and smiled.
“I hope you brought your appetite,” she said. “They just cut off our electricity this morning.”
Hey, it’s never fun to travel alone, and one of my favorite things to do when I’m on the road is to embarrass my buddy Phillip McMillan, who goes with me just about everywhere. I get a big kick out of making Phillip look silly.
When we first started traveling all over the country, we took commercial flights. As you might imagine, we met thousands of people in airports and on planes. I always try to be humble and gracious with the fans. I’ll take photos with them and sign autographs, especially for kids.
During a layover at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, I started taking photos and signing things, and it seemed like the line of fans lasted forever. Hey, it’s the busiest airport in the world, Jack! After spending about an hour meeting people, somebody from the airline said, “Last call for Monroe, Louisiana.” Well, I took off running for our gate and forgot all about my bags. Poor Phillip had to haul my luggage and his onto the plane. He barely made it onto the plane before the flight attendants closed the door.
“Hey, it’s about time,” I told him. “We were about to move this puppy on! By the way, did you get my bags?”
As my partner in crime, Phillip is in charge of making sure I have everything I need when we travel. On every trip, he makes sure to pack the following items for me: headrest, backup iced-tea cup (hey, you never know), Bible, deck of cards, Big League Chew, mosquito net, fork and spoon, and the latest copy of Dog Fancy. I won’t go anywhere without that stuff.
Now, this might sound a little bit strange, but Phillip also keeps an empty Gatorade bottle on hand at all times. Hey, when you drink as much iced tea as I do, you never know when you’re going to have to go, Jack! I’ve been in some tight spots while traveling, and that Gatorade bottle has saved me more times than I can count.
Over the years, my wife has been concerned about the amount of iced tea I drink every day. Other than a couple of glasses of water a day, it’s the only thing I drink. Christine sent me to the doctor to make sure my kidneys were functioning okay.
“Well, how much iced tea do you actually drink?” the doctor asked me.
“About two gallons a day,” I said.
“Is it sweet tea or unsweetened tea?” the doctor asked.
“Hey, it’s unsweetened,” I said. “I can’t get any sweeter than I already am.”
“Are you going to the bathroom regularly?” the doctor asked.
“I go about every thirty minutes,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”
“Well, it sounds to me like your kidneys are functioning quite well,” he said. “In fact, your kidneys are probably functioning better than most people’s.”
That’s why Phillip carries the empty Gatorade bottle. I never know when I’m going to have to go. When we’re on a trip and the plane lands, the first thing I have to do is sprint for the restroom. I’m sure some of the people who have greeted us at airports have found me rather rude. Instead of shaking their hands and saying hello, I run by them to find the restroom.
Hey, one of the really nice things Phillip did for me to make traveling more enjoyable was to give me an iPod and headphones. He downloaded all of my favorite music onto it. I’ll listen to about anything when I’m traveling, including Meatloaf and Korn. Hey, throw a little salt and pepper on it, and anything sounds good. I even like The Black Eyed Peas. The only problem: it makes me hungry when I say the name.
Now I listen to music whenever I’m on a plane. To be honest, I realized that when I have big headphones on my ears, no one seems to bother me. Don’t get me wrong: I love talking to fans, but everybody needs peace and quiet every now and then. When you spend as much time as I do working in the Duck Commander reed room, where Jase, Jep, Godwin, and Martin are constantly running their mouths, it’s nice to have some alone time every once in a while.
Before one of our flights, Phillip downloaded Luke Bryan’s new album Tailgates & Tanlines on my iPod. My favorite song on the album is “Country Girl (Shake It for Me).” Well, I started listening to it during the flight, and I didn’t realize I was singing it at the top of my lungs. I had those big headphones over my ears and couldn’t hear myself. Everybody on the plane was laughing at me, including Phillip. He had his sunglasses on and was right there giggling with them. Now, whenever I see Phillip laughing at me because I’m singing, I sing even louder to embarrass him. Hey, I’m going to start charging admission on commercial flights. There isn’t any such thing as a free show, Jack!
When we hit the road, it’s usually only Phillip and me and maybe somebody else from Duck Dynasty. My wife, Christine, doesn’t like to travel much, but she’ll come with us every once in a while. A couple of years ago, I had an event in Virginia, and she decided to come along because our son, Scott, was still in the army and was living there. She wanted to see Scott, his wife, Marsha, and our four grandsons. Phillip’s wife, Alicia, decided to make the trip with us as well.
Well, the plane ride to Virginia turned out to be pretty scary. Of course, I fell asleep within minutes of the plane taking off from Monroe. Christine was doing something on her iPad, and Alicia was listening to music on her iPod. About twenty minutes into the flight, Phillip heard loud noises. Then one of the two pilots called him into the cockpit. Phillip couldn’t believe what he saw: the plane’s windshield was cracked. It looked like it was broken into one thousand pieces.
“The pressure cracked the windshield,” the pilot said. “The good news is it’s a double-paned windshield. The bad news is they’re both cracked. We’re going to have to turn the plane around. Make sure everybody is buckled up. This could get a little bumpy, so keep everybody calm.”
Phillip went back to his seat and told Christine and Alicia what happened. Phillip thought to himself, This is it. It’s really over. The hair on the back of his neck was even standing up. Christine could sense that Phillip was nervous.
“Phillip, honey, calm down,” Christine told him. “Everything is going to be fine. Trust in the Lord and have no fear. If it’s our time, it’s our time. Either way, we’ll be okay because God is in control.”
Hey, Phillip was the one who was supposed to be keeping everyone else calm, but he was as nervous as a long-tailed cat on the front porch of a Cracker Barrel. It was Christine who was making him feel at peace. Finally, Phillip decided to wake me from my nap and tell me what was happening. I woke up and looked at the windshield. Phillip told me pressure cracked it.
“Naw, a bird hit the windshield,” I told him.
“Si, if a bird hit the windshield, the pilots would have seen it happen,” Phillip said.
“Hey, it was a bird,” I told him. “It was probably a duck!”
I went back to sleep. Phillip texted my nephew Jase when the plane was at low enough altitude to get a cellular signal on his phone. He wrote: “Hey, we might not make it. Thanks for sharing the Gospel with my family and me. Pray for us. Love you, Bro.”
Of course, the plane landed safely back in Monroe, or I wouldn’t be sitting here telling you the story. When the plane stopped on the runway, Christine, Phillip, and I held hands and said a prayer, in which we thanked the Almighty for protecting us. It was a close call. Jase told us later that he was playing golf with his brother Alan when he received Phillip’s text message. He told Alan, “What is Phillip talking about? He and Si are up to something!” It was typical Jase.
Hey, driving to events can sometimes be more hazardous than flying. One time, I rode with Jep and his wife, Jessica, to a small town in Texas. It was my turn to drive, and I might have been going a few miles over the speed limit because we were running late. A Texas State Trooper pulled us over on Interstate 10 near Houston.
In Louisiana, when the state police stop you, you’re supposed to get out the car and walk back to the trooper. I think they do it to make sure the driver doesn’t have a gun, and because they don’t want the trooper walking on the side of a busy interstate. Well, that’s apparently not how it works in Texas. When I got out of our car and started to walk back to the trooper’s car, he and his partner jumped out with their guns drawn!
“Put your hands in the air and show us your license and registration,” one of the troopers said.
“Hey, I don’t want to move,” I told them. “You guys have your guns drawn on me and they’re cocked!”
Thankfully, we worked things out. They wrote me a warning, and we went on down the road. God bless Texas.
Hey, there was another time when my sister-in-law Kay and I were driving to a book signing in Arkansas. After a couple of hours, we made a pit stop to use the restroom. I got back into the car and drove about twenty miles down the road. Suddenly, I saw a county sheriff in my rearview mirror. He was coming at me fast. He pulled next to me, flipped his lights on, and pulled me over.
He walked up to my window and said, “Hey, did you know that you left your sister-in-law at the gas station?”
“Thank the Good Lord,” I said. “I thought I’d gone deaf.”
To be honest, I would much prefer to travel to a small town than a big city. Don’t get me wrong: I’ve met thousands of nice people in big cities like Dallas, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Milwaukee, New York, and San Antonio, Texas. Hey, they’re proud of their cities and love living there. It’s great they feel that way. I only know that I couldn’t be surrounded by all of that asphalt, concrete, and noise. I much prefer living out in the country, and the people who live in small towns seem to be a lot more like me.
I’ll never forget the first time I visited New York for a Duck Dynasty promotion. To be honest, I wasn’t thrilled about having to go to the Big Apple, even though I think everyone should visit every big US city at least once. We were staying in a hotel near Central Park, and I couldn’t believe what we were paying for our rooms. The hotel was charging us about one thousand dollars per night! It was highway robbery!
When we arrived at the hotel, a bellman grabbed my bags out of our limousine. I checked in at the front desk, and the bellman told me he would take me to my room. When he opened the door, my jaw dropped to the floor. It was the smallest hotel room I’d ever seen. It didn’t even have a bathroom!
“Hey, Jack, I was born at night—but not last night!” I told him. “You’re not charging me one thousand dollars a night for this closet.”
“Sir, this is the elevator,” he said.
Look, if you can get used to the hustle and bustle of big cities, they’re not bad places to visit. I only know that I wouldn’t want to live in any of them. I had a great time in New York. I saw the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Broadway, the 9/11 Memorial, the Empire State Building, the diner where Jerry Seinfeld ate, and Yankee Stadium. It ended up being a very fun and educational experience. Hey, I saw plenty of strange things in New York, but I’m not going to get into that.
I’m telling you: you wouldn’t believe some of the odd things I’ve seen during my travels. I saw the world’s largest brick in Montgomery, Alabama. I saw the world’s largest jack-in-the-box in Middletown, Connecticut; the biggest ball of twine in Canker City, Kansas; and the largest bottle of catsup in Collinsville, Illinois. I’ll never forget seeing the world’s biggest ball of stamps in Boys Town, Nebraska. Hey, if you think putting reeds in millions of duck calls is repetitive work, try licking all of those suckers, Jack!
It drives Phillip nuts when I make him go two hours out of the way so I can see something odd. I’ve had my photo taken with Lenny the Chocolate Moose in Scarborough, Maine; Lucy the Elephant in Margate City, New Jersey; and the Giant Peach in Gaffney, South Carolina. When I’m going to speak at a small town, I like to learn as much as possible about where I’m going. For whatever reason, I’m really attracted to oddities and unique landmarks.
Now, let me tell you about the strangest thing I ever saw while we were on the road. We were driving to an appearance in Jackson, Mississippi, and we stopped for gas shortly after we crossed the state line. It was a nice, sunny afternoon during the summer, and I noticed a couple of guys digging holes on the side of the road. It was the strangest sight: one guy would dig a hole and then the other guy would fill it behind him. The first guy probably dug four holes and then the second guy filled them while I was watching.
After I paid for our gas and bought a bag of ice for my tea, my curiosity got the best of me. I walked down to the side of the road where the guys were digging holes.
“Hey, what are y’all doing?” I asked them. “Why are you digging holes if he’s only going to fill them back up with dirt?”
One of the guys looked at me and said, “Well, there’s usually three of us. I dig a hole, Larry puts a post in it, and then Dave puts dirt on top of it. Larry’s out sick, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work today.”
Hey, Jack, I jumped back in the truck with Phillip, and we headed down the road. I wasn’t about to catch what those boys had.
Some of the nicest people I’ve ever met were in small towns. Maybe it’s because they look and talk like me, but I seem to relate to them better. I’ll never forget when we stopped in a one-stoplight town in the middle of Texas. I really had to use the restroom and was nearly dying of hunger, so we stopped at a café on Main Street. I’m pretty sure it was the only restaurant in town.
When Phillip and I walked into the café, there were probably fifty people in there waiting to order their lunch. When they saw me, the place went dead silent. I turned around to see if Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo was standing behind me. Within minutes, people were lining up to shake my hand and take a photo with me. When I was finished, we got our plates and sat and ate lunch with the whole group. It felt like we were sitting at our dinner table at home, as we shared stories and told jokes with one another.
During another trip, we stopped at a barbecue joint in Oklahoma. When it was our turn to order our food at the cash register, the lady looked at me and said, “Did anybody ever tell you that you look like Uncle Si?”
“Hey, every day of my life,” I told her.
Once she figured out that it was actually me, I signed autographs and took photos with everybody in the restaurant. I loved every second of it. When I was finished, Phillip and I went to a back room in the restaurant. We sat at a table with an older man and his wife. We must have talked with them for an hour, and they loved on us and shooed people away from our table while we were eating. We felt so much at home.
Hey, that’s what I love about small-town USA. Everybody knows everybody, and no one is a stranger. I don’t know what it is, but people seem to be friendlier and more inviting. In small towns, there is plenty of fresh air and open parking spaces. You can see the stars at night, and, hey, if you look hard enough you might even see a billy goat standing on top of a bull. Hey, I’ve actually seen it happen in thirteen states.