Some cities are called hidden gems. Others should stay hidden like cursed relics sealed away for humanity’s protection. And yet, against all reason, people still book flights, plan road trips, and willingly subject themselves to places that radiate the energy of expired milk and sadness. Whether it’s toxic humidity, questionable locals, political decay, or the emotional equivalent of stepping on a Lego, these ten cities have made my personal Do Not Disturb list. No judgment if you’re from one of them—actually, scratch that, full judgment. Let’s dive into the urban armpits of America.
1. Gary, Indiana
We begin in Gary, which sounds like a man who sells insurance and smells faintly of mildew—and that’s exactly what this city embodies. Gary feels like a deleted scene from The Walking Dead, minus the zombies because even they packed up and left. Once known for steel, now known for “absolutely do not get out of the car,” it’s where dreams go to decompose and Wi-Fi signals go to die.
2. Bakersfield, California
Bakersfield is like if someone whispered “California” into a bootleg genie lamp and got punished for wishing wrong. It’s the love child of dust and despair, where the music is twangy, the air is chewy, and the culture is a combination of truck rallies and whatever Fox News said this morning. You’ll leave with a mysterious cough and a vague sense of betrayal from the word “California” itself.
3. Jackson, Mississippi
If urban decay had a home base, it would have a Jackson ZIP code. The city’s infrastructure is held together with duct tape, prayers, and unresolved trauma from every decade since segregation. When the water crisis hit, Jackson’s collective response was, “Again?” It’s not just poorly managed—it’s actively hostile to its residents and your sense of optimism.
4. Amarillo, Texas
Amarillo is where time slows to a crawl, then gives up altogether. It’s a pancake-flat town covered in beige and populated by people who think “y’all means all” is radical leftist propaganda. Sure, there’s a steakhouse that dares you to eat 72 ounces of meat, but that’s just a distraction from the tumbleweeds of generational bitterness drifting by.
5. Yuma, Arizona
Yuma is what hell looks like during a heatwave. It’s like living inside a hair dryer, but one that also gives you nosebleeds and UV damage. There’s sand in places sand should never go, and the town’s vibe screams “I peaked during the Hoover Dam construction.” If you enjoy spontaneous combustion and the faint taste of desperation in your iced tea, welcome home.
6. Hialeah, Florida
Imagine Miami after a head injury, and you have Hialeah. It’s a chaotic gridlock of honking, yelling, and pastel buildings with zero aesthetic remorse. Every intersection is a social experiment in whether humanity deserves rights. And don’t ask for directions—everyone is too busy arguing about who has the best empanadas and why Pitbull is underrated.
7. Scranton, Pennsylvania
Ah, Scranton—the city that rode The Office fame like a one-trick pony and forgot to evolve. It still clings to its glory like a college freshman clings to their high school varsity jacket. The vibe is part paper mill, part passive-aggressive winter, and part gas station deli meat. You’ll see one mural of Steve Carell and twenty potholes, all of them deeper than your last relationship.
8. Pahrump, Nevada
Yes, it’s real. Pahrump is that fever-dream desert town that seems to exist solely to host alien sightings, gun shows, and extremely unregulated fireworks stands. It’s Vegas’s methy cousin—less sparkle, more tumbleweed, and a lingering smell of something that might be a lizard or might be your dignity burning off in the sun. It’s not “off the grid.” It is the grid, broken and duct-taped together with conspiracy theories.
9. Branson, Missouri
Branson is where middle-aged dreams go to perform cover songs and collect early-onset xenophobia. It’s like Disney World for people who think masks are government control and Dolly Parton is a political moderate. You’ve got dinner theaters with fake cowboys, 4D animatronic Jesus musicals, and a guy named Randy trying to sell you a handmade belt buckle. It’s charming in the way a colonoscopy is “necessary.”
10. Truth or Consequences, New Mexico
Yes, this town literally changed its name to match a 1950s radio show, and no, the trauma never healed. Everything here looks beige, smells like mineral water and pipe dreams, and feels like a high desert acid trip that never quite wore off. There’s a hot spring, but it’s surrounded by vibes so strange you’ll wonder if the water’s been cursed by a long-lost Breaking Bad spin-off character.
Let’s be clear: I don’t hate all small towns. I’m not one of those city elitists who thinks anything without an oat milk latte is uncivilized. I’ve fallen in love with places most people have never heard of, and I’ve been bored senseless in cities people rave about. But these places? These are different. These are destinations where your soul shrinks just a little, your GPS malfunctions out of self-preservation, and your Yelp app asks, “Are you sure?”
There’s no excuse in 2025 to visit a city that smells like deep-fried regrets and sunburned politics. We’re too evolved. We have AI, oat milk, and remote work. Why are you voluntarily entering Gary, Indiana when Copenhagen exists? Why are you in Branson watching gospel puppets when Tokyo has robot cabarets? Why are you in Jackson begging for clean water when Iceland is just sitting there being glorious and volcanic?
If you’ve read this and still feel compelled to book a weekend in Pahrump, I can’t stop you. But know this: your Airbnb will be haunted. Not by spirits, but by questionable décor choices and a deep, unshakable feeling that your liver is in danger.
So travel smart. Pack light. And if anyone suggests a “quick detour” through Amarillo, slap the phone out of their hand and run.