When I enter Boston's Logan airport and emerge in Boise's Beeson airport, the differences usually strike me first. The air is clean, the men all open doors for me and everyone walks just a little bit slower. But some things exist to remind me that this is still the United States and that there's a lot tying us together too.

We all have fireworks on Independence Day. We all read Dilbert. And we all watch baseball--or should. After all, there's nothing like an evening at the ballpark to give you a sense of the community you live within.

Pre-game, Boston: I pay $10 to sit on the same bleacher as 20 friends. We can see the field, pretty much. We root for the home Sox against the Milwaukee Brewers.

Pre-game, Boise: My parents pay $8 a ticket for us to sit in the box seats overlooking first base. My mom has to sit in the next box with a bar separating us...it's only three seats across. We root for the home Hawks against the Yakima Bears.

Opening lineup, Boston: Everyone buys beer.

Opening lineup, Boise: All the non-Mormons buy beer.

Game start, Boston: We all stand and the men remove their hats. Some group sings the national anthem with embellishments better left to one of the innumerable pop/rock stations. We clap anyway.

Game start, Boise: We all stand and the men remove their hats. Someone sings the national anthem with embellishments better left to one of the innumerable country stations. We clap anyway.

Inning one, Boston: The pitchers are fresh, and the inning goes quickly. Not much to see, especially from our angle.

Inning one, Boise: The pitcher is fresh enough to strike out the first batter. After that, things get a little crazy. A few catches become misses, and the opposing team ends up with two runs before an outfielder, Cesar Geronimo, catches two to get the Hawks up to bat. A man on first, but no score.

Inning two, Boston: Another quick inning. We stop paying attention to the game. A few beach balls get hit back and forth, but they only make it all the way up the section once or twice before security grabs them.

Inning two, Boise: In the middle of the inning, while the teams switch, my mom's co-worker uses an elastic slingshot to get a water balloon into a hot tub being pulled around the field by a pickup truck. She wins the tub. We cheer. The Hawks get on the board. We clap.

Inning three, Boston: Two drunk fans get in a fight. Everyone stands up to get a better view. Security and police arrest and remove them. The section boos.

Inning three, Boise: A woman near us spills a drink on the man in front of her. She apologizes, and the wife of the man says, "Don't worry...he washes."

Inning four, Boston: Another fight. Same result.