My freshman year of college took me overseas to England. I had never been away from home before alone, to another city or state, much less to another country. Here I was, 18 years old, leaving home for the first time, going on a plane for the first time, excited to be legal to drink alcohol en route "across the pond." I talked to my first New Zealander whom I couldn't understand although he spoke English. I expected the clouds and the grass to somehow be different, but they weren't. But it didn't stop me from taking pictures with my first camera.
I rode the London underground tube for the first time. Nearly lost my luggage en route to King's Cross in London for the first time. Rode my first train. Of course, I sat by some cute businessmen, and a beautiful lady; and for the first time since my trip began, I fell asleep. When I woke up, the men were gone. The beautiful lady and those sitting next to her were smiling.
I knew it instantly. Here I was on my first passenger train, snoring away like a freight train with my mouth hanging open (which I knew because... read more >>
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I met my husband on one of those online dating sites back in 1999 just when they were beginning to be en vogue. I was working for my hometown newspaper at the time and they were kind enough to let me off early on December 31, 1999, so that I could fly to Detroit to see my future husband.
Everyone thought that I was nuts flying on a plane that could suddenly go haywire at midnight when the clocks were to turn to the new year 2000. The airport was eerily quiet that night that I left. I got on the plane expecting it to be packed as usual since this was such a short flight from Indianapolis. We were four passengers and a whole contingent of plane personnel.
Before the plane took off, the flight attendant came up to us and asked us one question: "Would we like to be bumped up to First Class free of charge?" We looked at each other and couldn't believe our luck.
I grabbed my carry-on and didn't hesitate to find my wide, comfy seat in first class. We were each offered a complimentary bottle of champagne to ring in the New Year and we... read more >>
When you're away on travel in college, you can do some very stupid things, although when I look back on some of them, they were weirdly funny. My friend and I were goofing off on Tottenham Court Road in London when we noticed that there was a Scientology office there. I had written about Scientology for my school newspaper around 1981. Wow, a chance to see what some considered a cult in action from within their own office.
We planned for about ten minutes to go in and give fake names and go undercover to see what in the heck it was all about. We thought about all the spy movies we ever saw and what we'd do if we got separated. How we would run out and meet up at the Tottenham movie theatre and go see a movie.
I walked in the doors first and my friend walked in a minute or so after me. A young, tall man approached me and began asking all sorts of personal questions, directing to literature. Finally, he asked my name. He must have thought that I was a total wack job, because I totally couldn't remember the name I planned on giving to... read more >>
It's a wonder I ever made it back to the United States. After a last weekend in London staying in a hotel in Earl's Court, I packed to get ready to leave Harlaxton College to go home. I was exhausted after my impromptu weekend and double-checked my packing and papers. My passport was missing! I found the number to the hotel where we had stayed and the manager said that I had left my passport there. He had it for me at the manager's desk. I had very little money to make it home to start with and now had to make the trip back to the hotel. I began my journey home by picking up my passport. Here I was in another country with someone I totally didn't know holding my one source of identification. Luckily, the manager was honest and kind.
I picked up the passport, making my way to the train to get to Heathrow. Only I didn't have enough money left for the fare. I begged classmates that I saw in the airport for the fare. I managed to get three of them to give me a portion. I was majorly stressed out.
Finally, I made it... read more >>
While walking along with a friend in the heart of Soho in London's famed Piccadilly Circus, I lost track of her for a few moments. I was standing there on the street corner around ten at night, looking around for her, when this dark-complexioned man dressed in a white hat with a feather off to the side, long white heavy fur coat, and laced up boots, came up to talk to me.
Me, being just 18 years old and from a small town of around nine thousand people in the Midwest, didn't think a thing of starting up a conversation with a total stranger. Even one who looked like a pimp. He began to ask me all sorts of questions in another language and motioned for me to follow him over to another area of Piccadilly. Thankfully, my friend noticed that I was missing and came over to where we were standing. She took one look at the man in the pimp clothes and her eyes grew wide. Being older and much more worldly, she grabbed my arm, none too gently, and pulled me out of there, practically dragging me down the street, breathlessly chastising me over and over with... read more >>
My buddy and I start off on the Trans-America Trail (http://www.transamtrail.com/) in Tennessee, planning to ride our motorcycles all the way to the Oregon coast mostly offroad. It's a Saturday afternoon, we've just had an oil change done on our KTM 640 Adventures.
Hours later as I'm rounding a bend my engine stalls, I look down and it's smoking. Turns out the guy who did the oil change only hand tightened one of the oil drain screws (LC4 engines have two) and it had vibrated almost entirely out. The only thing stopping it was skidplate below the engine.
The bike is unridable. It was the first day of the trip. I had it shipped out from the west coast. So much planning had gone into the trip. We're on a tight schedule. It's a Saturday night and the majority of motorcycle shop are closed on Sunday and Monday.
We do the next logical thing, get a few six packs of beer and a couple pizzas and start drunk brainstorming.
The next morning the two of us are riding on my friends bike. It's a 350 pound bike, my friend weights about 250, I weight 170, and god only knows what *both* of our gear... read more >>
