We’ve committed to a friend trip this year, but we haven’t settled on anything yet. Some prefer an exciting city (Amar), some the mountains (me). Some can splurge (congrats on the new job, Paige!), while some need to skimp (sorry about the job, Kevin). We also haven’t decided whether to invite Ethan, who is incapable of talking about anything other than his bonsai trees (I’ve left him off this email for now). Luckily, I’ve found a way to ensure the benefits and burdens of our trip fall fairly on everyone: by deploying the theoretical framework of the 20th century’s greatest political philosopher, John Rawls. We must check our personal biases and plan our friendcation behind Rawls’s groundbreaking “veil of ignorance.”

I’ve been adjuncting this semester, so I’ve had time to comprehensively revisit Rawls’s work, which invites us to imagine what kind of society we’d build if we were blind to individual circumstances like Kevin’s crushing credit card debt or Paige’s giant law partner paycheck. Rawls surmised that the rules we choose behind this veil of ignorance would be fair because they’d account for society’s least well-off members. It seems obvious that this tool for organizing a multicultural liberal democracy would be perfect for organizing a short vacation for a group of friends who’ve slowly drifted apart since college.

Let’s start by choosing some dates. Amar is Hindu, Paige is Catholic, and Kevin spent $35,000 in PandaCoin to join the Pathways Center for Spiritual and Portfolio Growth. But we wouldn’t know this behind the veil, so we must avoid all religious holidays. We also wouldn’t know who has kids, who already has summer plans, or who suffers from paraskevidekatriaphobia (a fear of Friday the 13th). This rules out all school days, May through August, and any date that’s spooky-coded.

Upon a Rawlsian analysis, the best time for our friendcation would be the first weekend after Thanksgiving. Would this be convenient for anyone? Not particularly. Very few people travel right after a holiday, which is why it wouldn’t create a conflict. It’s not a great option, but it’s the least bad. And that’s why it’s fair.

Now that we’ve picked a date, let’s choose a location. Normally, we’d balance Paige’s love of the beach against Amar’s passion for architecture and Kevin’s penchant for casinos. Behind the veil, we can’t take these into account. Maintaining fidelity to Rawls may be as tough as listening to Ethan prattle on about bonsai root pruning, but it’s the only way to plan a just friendcation that works equally well whether you’re a wealthy aristocrat (Paige), a Dickensian pauper (Kevin, obviously), or a guy who seems to only date rich women who treat him right (Amar, nice).

We therefore can’t assume anything. We don’t know who has a driver’s license, who’s a National Parks nerd, and who suffers from siderodromophobia (the fear of train tracks). From this position of complete impartiality, a clear vacation destination winner emerges: Lebanon, Kansas, the geographic center of the contiguous United States.

It’ll be difficult to get to North Central Kansas, but it won’t be equally difficult for all of us because we live in different places. Remember, Rawls’s theory doesn’t require total equality—it only requires maximum overall benefit to the least well-off among us, who in this case is Kevin (sorry about the divorce, friend).

His flight from Washington D.C. to Wichita will be 3 hours and 20 minutes, and from there, it’ll be a 2-hour-and-56-minute Uber to Lebanon. This sounds bad, but it’s considerably less of a burden than the expensive, 20-hour flight to the Maldives that Paige wanted him to take.

Finally, we should decide how we’ll spend our vacay time. Behind the veil, we don’t know who favors skiing over jet skiing. We don’t know if people prefer colonial ghost tours or the ghost peppers of North Carolina. And we don’t know who has Dixiephasomophobia (the fear of Southern ghosts).

Thankfully, the choice won’t be difficult. Our best, most equitable, and only activity option is the state park one mile northwest of Lebanon (pop. 178). After we take turns signing the park’s registration book, we’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the late-November snow.

Now that the major decisions about our friendcation have been made, all that remains is to settle the Ethan dilemma. I vote we ditch him. He’ll have too many opportunities to make us watch bonsai YouTube videos. And as all behind the veil would agree, that wouldn’t be fair to any of us.