There’s Nothing Quite Like Traveling Abroad and Soaking In All the Rich, Authentic Poverty
My wife and I love experiencing the unfamiliar, like state-sanctioned killings, nationwide poverty, or kooky cheeses.
My wife and I love experiencing the unfamiliar, like state-sanctioned killings, nationwide poverty, or kooky cheeses.
If I had made it through the dramatic events of that April night, I would have died anyway since the last Titanic survivor passed away in 2009.
Steal a seat from a pregnant woman who was about to sit down, then pull out a copy of "Angels & Demons" and bury your head in it.
If that’s not bad enough, the elk start head-butting each other out of sheer horniness for all to see. It’s like living in a frat house.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art, somehow, contains a large painting of me having my ass beat with a hammer, wielded by a man who I have never met.
Recently I have reactivated my Instagram account to post pictures with #worldtraveler, #nomad and, most importantly, "not a bad view for a Monday."
If room 237 needed to be checked-in on (as it always seemed to) but I wasn't really feelin' it, I just wouldn’t do it, and nobody ever got mad.
As part of white collar drug treatment program, baristas serve liquid methadone lattes on G train. Every other Thursday, system-wide Backwards Day.
Three examples of how self-imposed labels have personally defined my experiences abroad, from utterly tame to absolutely insane.
Yes, your uncle is dead. But Seattle is an amazing city and you WILL NOT let a perfectly good couple of days away from the office and kids be ruined by a lousy funeral.