Europeans have it all figured out. We Americans fly over, buy all sorts of things, and return home with pockets stuffed with bizarre foreign bills. "I'll save them for my next visit," we tell ourselves, but then a year or two later we fly back and encounter the following:

CLERK: I am sorry, but we only accept zee cash here.

ME: Um, this is cash. This is French cash.

CLERK (looking at them closely): No, eet eez not. Are you sure you deed not get zeese from le Chuck E. Cheese?

See, they've got a great scam going. Every year they discontinue their old bills, like they're ostrich-skin boots at Barneys. The residents all scurry to the bank, swap their old currency for new, and immediately cease to recognize the old. "Cash?" says the woman at the boulangerie. "No, zat's not cash. Deed you deeg them up with zee metal detector?"

It's happened to me twice in France -- once when they converted to Euros -- and once in England. And every time I got a look like, "Will Sir be trying to pay his bill in cole slaw next?"

I toss the useless paper into the nearest river and it hits me: why don't we give these guys a taste of their own medicine? We could probably pay off the federal deficit if we switched from dollars to, say, ObamaBux. And personally, I'd love to be at the counter when some of them foreigners pull out the old currency.

ME: Dollars? You want to spend dollars? Ha! If you're very lucky, perhaps you could sell them at an antique shop.

Anyway, against my better judgment, I'm going on vacation again. Until November 8 I'll be wandering England, the Greek islands, and Turkey, while reposting daily repeats here. Somehow, I know it's going to happen again. I'm hoping somebody still takes Euros, or I'm coming home with a pocketful of useless --

Oh. On second thought, forget everything I said about ObamaBux. We'll talk about it when I get back.