I get it – fans want more, more, more. But here’s the truth: no computer, no content.

This past week I hit Madrid, Ibiza, and Munich for Oktoberfest. Eight days. Tapas tours, 6am night clubs, Romanian strippers. Think EuroTrip’s Cooper with the code word “fluggelgleckheimlen”.

Madrid blew me away. The city runs at a laid-back, effortlessly elegant pace. People look good, laugh often, and don’t seem weighed down by stress – or body fat. Maybe it’s because they don’t actually work? Hard to tell, but whatever they’re doing, it’s working. I felt safe and the people were accommodating.

Ibiza had the resort vibe dialed in, and one particular club night set a new high bar for service. It’s hard to even begin to explain how much cooler than city was than me. Munich? Oktoberfest was a total letdown – but that rant deserves its own post. Let’s just say it was “very German.” I now understand why you may need to have a table reservation on the first day of its opening.

Now that I’ve checked 20+ European cities off my list, I’ve got at least some perspective. I wouldn’t call myself a seasoned traveler – I haven’t touched Asia, South America, or Africa – but one thing stands out: the airports. Step into a U.S. terminal and it’s obvious. Americans are louder, heavier, slower. Freedom gave us the world’s top performers, but it also left us with the bottom of the barrel. Germany, by contrast, runs tighter – people live for the machine, not themselves – so their “range” of health and lifestyle is narrower. That’s why, from the outside, America looks both exceptional and like a joke.

And yet, I wouldn’t live anywhere else. America prints rich people. There are more top earners at home than in Europe, guaranteed. Our system rewards creativity and expertise. Theirs props up social well-being. Both are failing in their own ways, but if you’re a wealthy American, Europe doesn’t feel unattainable. Even with a weak dollar, a €10 beer at the Four Seasons isn’t outrageous – it’s the price of atmosphere. Bottom line: you grind at home so you can enjoy what other cultures do differently, and sometimes, better.

Travel, though, isn’t easy. It wrecks your body. Sleep-deprived, digestion shot. Before a trip, I’m producing Michelin-star logs. Land in Europe, eat the food, and suddenly I’m pooping rabbit pellets. Add gallons of booze, zero exercise, minimal water, and cappuccinos that never quite hit, and you’ve got a broken machine. Nevertheless, I’m adapting. Doorless showers, no A/C, strange comforters, water with gas… they’re second nature at this point. Even the awkwardness of not speaking their language, it doesn’t bother me a bit anymore. They want your money.