I'm back from my last vacation, feeling a bit awkward and lonely after boarding the wrong flight. Sadly, my inadvertent mission to colonize the moon didn't work out, so I've come back to earth to tell stories of other travels gone weird. But first, since I'm not famous like some of of the less humble astronauts, I'll throw in a little background. Very little, due to pending anti-defamation suits. On second thought, I better leave out the background and talk about my writing.
Highly motivated by angry teachers and threats of expulsion, I felt compelled to write at an early age. So compelled, I practiced my craft writing "I am not as funny as I think I am" on the blackboard five hundred times every day. It seems that my insightful remarks, though cynical, sarcastic, and loved by fellow students, were not appreciated by humorless grade school teachers. I suppose it was a matter of sophistication.
Later, I learned that high school teachers and college professors had even less a sense of humor. Just like my ultra-conservative parents. Annoyed by countless meetings with aggrieved staff members, they grounded me through much of my childhood. Yearning for adventure, I read everything in the library, lived vicariously, and dreamed of traveling the world. Not exactly an exciting youth, but things picked up when I moved away to college in 1967, right after the Summer of Love. A time of peace marches, free love, and dreams of a better world. Also, fantastic rock music. Now compelled by Timothy Leary and a need to upgrade my coolness factor, I turned on, tuned in, and dropped out. Nah, just kidding about that last part. Of course I stayed in school. Nixon made sure dropouts went to Vietnam.
School finally over, as a mild-mannered revolutionary on a philanthropic mission to change the world, I flew to Hawaii. My goals: catch waves and have a fantastic life. Plus, grow the best pot ever smoked, raise the world's consciousness, and end war. Not to mention, avoid law school and travel the world. My mission had great...well, mixed results, but having opted for a more adventurous lifestyle and loving it, there was no turning back.
For better or worse, with a free-spirited attitude and a surfeit of common sense, when not pursuing my philanthropy, I've sought adventure in far off lands. Exotic places with unworldly views and bizarre cultures. Where I've been lost in rain forests, chased by cannibals, and intimately frisked by Third World police. Where I've been tortured by low rent hotel beds, poisonous veggie plates, and robbed at gunpoint. Also, spearpoint! Where I've been bitten by venomous insects, eyed hungrily by tiger sharks, and sucked dry by parasites! Where I survived a shipwreck, a plane crash, and Third World bureaucrats. I've had a few sketchy times as well.
Despite the injuries accrued and odds overcome, it's been a fun...well, bumpy ride. Like the wily cockroach, I've survived to accumulate some wacky tales and now I want to share them with you. You know, before the dementia sets in any further.
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