I Need To Get Out More (or Been There; Done That)

Posted on May 25, 2012 by Sean Sandulak

So, I’m not what you’d call a seasoned traveler. In fact I haven’t been anywhere for a while. My passport expired about the same time as Kurt Cobain did. (What? Too soon?) It certainly wasn’t from a lack of desire. Everyday I say, “Get me out of here.” And it wasn’t about the money. (Although I haven’t had a decent raise in three years. Hint, hint.) No, it’s just that when vacation time rolls into view, I always seem to have a full plate of things to get done at home.
The main reason people seem to go to other places is to see big piles of rocks. Sometimes they’re natural like Ayers, Everest, Fuji, etc. Maybe it’s from being raised a flatlander, but I can’t get excited about what is essentially just dirt stacked on top of other dirt.

Or other times people go to see man-made stacks of stones like Notre Dame, the Colosseum, or Chichén Itzá. Sure they can be pretty but they’re still just rocks. The grand canyon? A big hole in the ground full of rocks. Just sitting on the beach? Piles of little tiny rocks. I don’t need that. I’ve got rocks right here. (I’m sorry. That came out wrong.)
But maybe you don’t go for the scenery but for the culture of exotic locales. To me that just means people talking in languages I can’t understand (like the Scottish). I am paranoid enough without not knowing why people are giving me funny looks. I’d spend all my time worrying I was going to catch some flesh-eating disease and not be able to ask where the nearest hospital was.

Maybe you’re a foodie with a craving for World cuisine. Well, you can look up any recipe on the Internet and buy the ingredients at your corner grocery store. Or if you don’t want to cook there are hundreds of restaurants near you that will make you up a plate of just about anything you can imagine. Not everyone eats at the food court in the mall. All this without snarky French waiters, currency exchanges, and questionable food inspection practices.

They say getting there is half the fun. But after hours of waiting for planes, trains, and rental cars, I’m going to take a nap; wake me up when it’s over. (Add a little airport security rape just in case I might be sporting nail clippers or a #2 pencil. I don’t feel safer. I feel violated.) My own personal hell would be to be trapped on a cruise ship with a bunch of old farts eating themselves into diabetic comas. I can’t walk into a hotel room without thinking about how many people have had dirty, nasty sex on that mattress (without me).

And for all this “pleasure” they expect me to shell out thousands of dollars that I don’t have to spare. No, I think I’ll just stay where it doesn’t matter if it rains for a week straight. Let’s be honest there really isn’t any reason to go anywhere anymore. Not when I can stream high-definition video of any place in the world (and a few other worlds too).
Also, there’s no place like home.