"I'm A Travelin' Man" Uh. I Mean Woman.

One of the most exciting times in my writing career was when I was able to write the post about talking to my editor, which resulted in me writing a blog for the local newspaper. But the other day I had something even more exciting happen.

Most of you know that I am planning to retire in the spring after twenty years as a library media specialist in an elementary school. There are a lot of things I want to do when I retire, but first on the list is to TRAVEL. Tom and I want to see the world, preferably from the deck of a luxurious cruise ship, reclining in deck chairs, as someone brings us fabulous chocolate desserts on a silver tray. And I want to write about all that. But I got to thinking how nice it would be if someone would actually, you know, PAY me to write about travel and, in a lovely and ideal world, PAY ME TO TRAVEL. So. I designed a blog (with quite a bit of help from my graphic designing daughter), came up with a presentation and approached a local travel agency. And whadda ya know? They actually like the idea.

They are not quite ready to pay me a huge salary and send me on a cruise around the world but they are ready to give me a chance and that's all I ask. We are tentatively talking about putting me on some sort of commission basis. I just hope this is not like the time I worked for McDonald's and I was giving out samples of Chicken Nuggets because, yes, they were a NEW PRODUCT and I am EXTREMELY OLD and we were supposed to get a credit for every person who ordered chicken nuggets, based on our recommendation. Since I was actually the only one giving free samples of this luscious new product, I technically got credit for everyone who ordered them. This did not make me popular in the break room. There may have been some hair pulling. Some ketchup packets squirted in my direction. Some french fries left in my locker.

Oh, not really. But there totally COULD HAVE BEEN. Wouldn't that have been a much better story if there had been?

And can't you see what a great travel blogger I will be when I am so easily distracted from my story about the great beaches of Thailand by a story about working at McDonald's?

I know you can't wait.

Check it out here: http://thetravelauthority.blogspot.com/

And let me know what you think.

And if you are the teensiest bit interested in writing about that fabulous trip you took or sharing videos or photographs from it? Contact me. I might be able to use some of your stuff.

Sewage On a Plane

Airline apologizes for sewage on plane

Thu Jun 21, 12:59 PM ET
DALLAS - Continental Airlines Inc. is apologizing to its customers for "poor conditions" aboard a transatlantic flight where one passenger described sewage spilling down the aisle from a lavatory. "I've never felt so offended in all my life," passenger Collin Brock of Washington state told Seattle's KING-TV. "I felt like I had been physically abused and neglected. I was forced to sit next to human excrement for seven hours."
Continental spokesman Dave Messing on Thursday confirmed that there had been a problem with the plane's lavatory during the flight.
Flight 71, with 168 passengers on board, had taken off June 13 from Amsterdam bound for Newark, N.J., but made an overnight stop in Shannon, Ireland, to fix the lavatory problem, Messing said.
He said everything appeared to have been fixed before the plane took off again for Newark the next day, renamed Flight 1970, but then "the problem developed again."
After the plane landed in Newark, airline employees determined the problem was caused by someone flushing latex gloves down the toilet — despite signs that warn not to discard foreign objects into the system, Messing said.
"We deeply regret the serious inconvenience to our customers and are apologizing to them and compensating them for the poor conditions on the flight as well as the diversion and delay," he wrote in a statement from the Houston-based carrier.
Continental is compensating passengers with travel vouchers, Messing said. He declined to say how much the vouchers were worth.
Brock told KING-TV he was offered a $500 voucher. He said he wasn't sure he would ever use it.



I was reading this article and couldn't help but be appalled because, really even though we love flying and would fly to our jobs if we could, being scrunched in those little seats with those pitiful bags of snacks (and now you have to PAY FOR YOUR OWN MEAL) and being too hot or too cold and having delays and having to sit in the airport for hours when there is a thunderstorm at O'Hare that delays your flight for hours is not all that wonderful. But all that PALES in comparison to having to fly with poo in the aisle beside you. That would be...bad. But here's what really concerns me. What seriously concerns me.



They discovered the problem was caused by a clog in the toilet caused by someone flushing a pair of latex gloves. Really? Someone flushed...some latex gloves...in the airplane restroom.



Think about this. Really think about it. What in the world were they doing with latex gloves on? Or even taking them on the plane? Aside from sort of sexual use which, really, ewwww. Were they so anal (no pun intended, you sicko) they had to clean the bathroom before using it? Was there some Comet found in the toilet as well? Were they thinking there would be some sort of medical emergency on board, like, well, I don't know, someone going into labor or needing an immediate proctological exam? And they could yell, "Wait! I am totally ready for this! I HAVE my latex gloves with me! Move out of my way!". Maybe they were planning to put little faces on the gloves with a marker and blow them up to make a little puppet show for the children in the seat behind them. Or maybe they just thought they would put them down the toilet, it would overflow and sewage would overrun the plane.

Because they REALLY like that smell.

Cab Drivers are Maniacs

We used to be intimidated by the idea of catching a cab. Now we are simply terrified to ride in one. When we went to New York, we knew that we would probably have to ride in a cab. We would need to get from our hotel to restaurants, to Broadway for the show we were attending, to catch our tour bus, to the pier to board our cruise ship. We were a little nervous about it.

The first time we tried to catch a cab, Tom stepped to the curb, held up his arm - and a cab pulled over. We exchanged glances. Nobody could tell we were hicks from Kentucky. We were cool. We were suave. We were sophisticated. We could hail a cab. I have to interject here how indispensable my husband was to me on this trip. Not only was he a funny and loving companion, he could find his way around, like, anywhere. We were in the middle of Central Park. We had wandered around and I was totally lost. We would still be there now if it weren't for Tom. He gently turned me around when I headed in the wrong direction and unerringly led us back to the hotel. I was super impressed. Since I can't find my way out of a paper bag, he was handy to have along. He could also find his way around the cruise ship and had the entire ship layout memorized in roughly 3 minutes. I could never find the pool. I went back to the room to get my sunglasses from the pool one time and he didn't see me again for an hour.

Anyway. We could hail a cab. But riding in one was quite another matter. The drivers are completely and totally insane. They drive approximately 341 miles an hour, and don't stop for anyone or anything. We also, incorrectly, assumed they would know their way around New York. I don't know where we got THAT idea. We got in a cab that night and told him the name of the restaurant we wanted. "Where is that?", he asked. We didn't know. We thought he would know. We did figure it out and managed to get there. But not without holding on for dear life to each other and praying we would survive the trip.

We found out later the cab drivers drive this fast because they rent the cabs, so the more money they can make in the least amount of time, is crucial to their income. But I still think they are maniacs. On one of our last nights, we walked from the hotel to a restaurant close by for dinner. A cab swerved to the curb, some guy leaped out (probably scared green by the cabbie's speed) and took off down the sidewalk at a dead run. The cabbie leaped out and pursued him. The guy sped past us, we stepped aside and the cab driver yelled "Stop him!" Uh, yeah, right. We may be hicks from Kentucky but we know when to stay out of a fight.

We just kept on walking as he dashed by.

Omeletes Were FABULOUS

When we went on our first cruise, lo these many years ago, everything was so new and exciting. Our room had a window! We had a bed! We had a bathroom! We could order room service and NOT HAVE TO PAY FOR IT. (Of course, in reality, we had paid about $5,000 for it, but that's not the point.) And, when we went to breakfast that first morning, they had an OMELET BAR. Oh, my God. We could order a fresh, homemade omelet of our very own. We could choose whatever fresh ingredients we wanted and they would make an omelet for us. For each of us. Our very own. We had omelets every day.

They were FABULOUS. And then we went on our next cruise. And our next. And our next. And we had breakfast at the downtown Hyatt in Louisville and they had an omelet bar. I learned how to make omelets at home. They became...not so fabulous. They are still really good. We love omelets. But not so fabulous. They will never be as fabulous as they were on that first cruise. The novelty. The taste. The entire experience. It's kind of sad.

We have become jaded with omelets. I worry about this. I can see why movie stars and other famous people travel the world, vie for the ultimate, exhilarating experience, buy the next best thing or have ten-second relationships. They are jaded. I don't want to be jaded. I want everything to be as exciting as it was the first time. I realize that's just not realistic.

But it makes me sad.

Kentucky Fried Chicken

We are worldly and cosmopolitan. We know you are supposed to use that itty bitty fork for shrimp and that sorbet is served to cleanse your palate, not to slather with chocolate sauce. Although we were a LITTLE intimidated by the sheer number of utensils on the table at our first truly formal dinner, we have learned a lot from cruising the last few years.

And what we have learned is that when people hear you are from Kentucky, they think "Kentucky Fried Chicken".

We like sitting at big tables for dinner on a cruise, with a bunch of strangers. We didn't know if we would like it. We are not incredibly social, friendly people, although we have good friends and do socialize some. But we have met the most interesting people. A sweet, young newlywed couple on their honeymoon. A former Vietnam helicopter pilot who mailed us an autographed copy of his book after the cruise. A table of New Yorkers who apparently lost their "r's" somewhere around Houston Street. (Only tourists say Houston like the city in Texas. If you are wordly like us, you say House-ton. Odd but true) We were snorkeling around these people in the turquoise tropical water and snorted with laughter when they kept repeating "Don't snoakle ovah theah. Snoakle ovah heah." Of course, this is at the same time we were saying "How're y'all doin this mawnin?", so I shouldn't judge.

Anyway. It doesn't seem to matter who we meet or where they are from. When we say we are from Kentucky, they invaribly reply with "Oh, Kentucky Fried Chicken!". We met a lovely young couple from Italy in the airport. They could barely speak English. Guess what they said when we told them we were from Kentucky? Nothing about our great basketball team, our smooth bourbon, our fast horses - nope. "Oh, si, Kan-tuck-ee. Kentucky Fried Chicken, si?" Whew.

So, I have decided how I'm going to introduce myself from now on, to anyone from anywhere on any trip we take. "Yes, I am from Kentucky. Great basketball. Smooth bourbon. Fast horses."

Yeah. And I know what the inevitable reply will be.

"Oh, Kentucky. Kentucky Fried Chicken!"