Travel Writing

I’ve been meaning to do more travel writing, and not just because I heard you can cadge free trips for doing so.

All the great writers of the world - Hemingway, Shakespeare, Stalin - got free airline travel to far off places and wrote about them for fun and profit. Why not me?

Just to show that I (and my family) are worthy of several international junkets, let me tell you about Disneyland, truly a magic kingdom where dollar bills are made to magically disappear at a magically fast pace.

I took the family there once, and we experienced a wonderful world of joy until our money ran out about an hour later. After that, we enjoyed many of the free activities that are available on site, such as trash and coin picking up, washroom visiting, letting the kids shine shoes until the cops come along, and of course the many free parades where grandmothers nod off on benches and leave their handbags slightly open.

Meanwhile, my wife and I were debating whose kidney to sell so we could enjoy a hot dog.

We also suffered severe brain damage by going on the ‘It’s a Small World’ boat ride, the only ride we could afford, where an endless array of loud speakers played the incredibly sweet, repetitive song ‘It’s a Small Annoying World After All’ over and over and over!

The ride starts off pleasantly enough. You meander along in your small boat through scenic world vistas while listening to the treacly, skull-numbing song It’s a Small Price to Pay for Not Having Your Kids Barf After All.

Something like that.

Then the song starts getting to you, and you realize there is no escape. After the 17^th repetition of It’s OK to Spend Money After All, you begin to notice subtleties in the music you didn’t hear before. Like the sound of gunshots from the staff room as long-term staff (one hour) begin blasting their toes off with powerful handguns rather than submit their ears to another minute of this brain-mushing torture.

You notice after the 29^th repeat of It’s a Small Price to Pay for a Hotdog You Are Getting Very Sleepy After All, that you are still only one third of the way along the winding, butt-numbing route.

The people in the boat ahead of you, who boarded their tub with traces of joy on their faces, are now starting to dribble blood from their ears as they search for ways to use the emergency fire axe on their shipmates in order to escape the din.

Meanwhile, the musical number It’s Good To Vote For Dick Cheney Who Sits On The Disney Board After All continues, getting louder and louder, and you find there is no throttle on the boat to make it go faster. There are no ejection seats or life rafts or signal flares either. You are stuck in it and forced to look at stupid little robots shouting their stupid song It’s a Long Way to The Exit So Hand Us Your Wallet You Fat Slob After All and why is my face twitching again!?

We learned our lesson that first day, and for the remainder of the trip we just stayed in our hotel room and watched the Disney Channel on TV. We had Disneyland representatives come directly to our room every few hours to take piles of cash from us by humming the song It’s Like Water Boarding After All, which worked out great since it kept us from getting sore feet and the kids didn’t urp up corn dogs and we had ready access to beverages for washing down our anti-psychotic medications.

So, airlines and exotic hotels! What do you say? Comps on their way?

Tell you what. You undo these straps I’ve been gnawing on, and then I can get started on the Hawaii piece right away. Deal?