American Backpackers' Moments of Despair

A few months ago, a friend of mine posted the following as her Facebook status:
"I ate ramen alone in my last night in London."

It's the sort of statement that is supposed to induce feelings of pity. But in reality, there was no inclination to say, "There, there. Sorry about your day, but it will be alright." In fact, I was thinking, "This is ridiculous. You shouldn't be complaining about one lonely meal. You're traveling for two weeks in Europe...while I'm stuck in rainy Tacoma trudging to work every day. Deal with it."
But then I took another step back.
I shouldn't judge. It's not like I've never complained. Even when things are going especially peachy, there's always something negative to point out. What's ridiculous part is how Americans (myself included) feel entitled to certain luxuries and conditions. We take a lot for granted, and we're gotten used to indulging ourselves whenever it strikes us. And more often than acknowledging how privileged we are, we talk about what's wrong.
Like "I can't believe how slow this printer is" (without thinking about the state of computer printer technology 15 years ago or that our main concern is waiting a few more seconds).

Along that vein of thought, here are some imagined Facebook updates from American travelers (although I don't think they're too separated from reality):

The tapas are a hell of a lot better in Seville.

This is the smelliest karaoke room in all of Osaka.

Lost my copy of "The Fountainhead" in Guatemala City.

Sumatran blend straight from the source and no fucking soy milk.

After reading "Angels and Demons," I was expecting more from the Vatican.

Vegemite breakfast? No thank you. Not going to cure this hangover.

Got in a fight with my roommate this morning in Marseilles. He says the "Transporter 3" was filmed here. Yeah right.

Had it up to here with Dar Es Salaam. Adopting a baby is a pain in the ass.