I am an Army brat; I’ve been in every state except 2 (Maine and Hawaii); and for the last 27 years I have considered myself something close to a widely cultured American… but living the past years in the Midwest has destroyed whatever exceptions I may have had to being a “tourist”.
I recently journeyed to Philly, New Jersey, and NY City… and, it’s official; I am one of those annoying, camera happy, loud mouthed jerk-offs from the Bible belt, invading a city near you. Walking around in culture-shock, map in one hand, camera in the other, I casually joined the 2 ½ million other drooling idiots trying to figure out where exactly I should stand to avoid being trampled to death by 4 million residents completing their daily routine. It was a phenomenal sightseeing experience for me… and I love every minute of it… well… almost.
I originally intended to write something clever and funny on the irony of prayer and how people like myself tend to use it when we feel we are in times of need… and then immediately turn and thank ourselves for such bravery, heroics, or whatever it is that WE did to free ourselves from the clutches of fear or distress…
but then I realized how much work that would have been.
so… I give to you a list of funny, ironic, and most likely unpleasant experiences from my vacation in one easy to use, cynically motivated, comically stunning, sarcastically witty, handy-dandy pocket sized travel edition of the “when’s, why’s, and where’s of Orion’s latest journey
(clever little reference to the title there huh?! Damn! I’m good)


Chapter One-A guide to preparation
(and NO… not “preparation H” even though most of this was a pain in my ass… again, notice how clever I am.)

Do NOT over pack. I’m sure I packed enough underwear to clothe half of Somalia, enough cologne to put a French whore to shame, and enough electronic devices to open my own little Radio Shack… all because I don’t want to run into any problems or embarrassments. I never learn, no matter how many times I go through this, it never sinks in.
Luggage is heavy. You’ll only need 1 set of pajamas, 1 pair of pants, and 1 pair of shorts. Yeah… that’s right… ONE! I packed 3 pairs of jeans and 3 pairs of shorts… and I only wore 1 of each! BRILLIANT! I packed 7 pairs of socks. I wore flip-flops everyday with the exception of the wedding day when I wore rental shoes and the handy black tinted see through socks I purchased for 9.99! And also I wore my regular socks and shoes on one day where the weather was not cooperating. If the shit doesn’t fit in a regular sized Wal-Mart bag, don’t bring it!

Chapter Two-A guide to a timely arrival
(nothing clever right now, sorry.)

Use rest areas. Yes they’re designed for convenience… not comfort. Please do not expect that turns off of the interstate will place a convenient and comfortable bathroom right at your disposal at 4 in the morning. Doing so will inevitably cause you to run late and what used to be polite exciting conversations will now be filled with: What stupid shit-hole of a town is this, how many CLOSED gas stations could you possibly cram into –Sweet! Dude, over there… I think there’s a 24 hour grocery store…
YES!! –thank you God! Keith hurry the fuck up! Dude, if we miss our flight I’m gonna slit your damn throat and throw you under a park bench in this miserable little… Oh, look at that, you bought gum. Do you feel better now that you have gum?!
And once you realize how late you actually are because… SOMEONE… just had to buy gum you’ll speed through city traffic with the backseat screaming: LeAnn drive faster! They’ll move, if they value their damn lives they’ll move… just don’t tip the van over… Hahaha you drive a mini-van, SOCCER-MOM!! Hahaha… LEFT LEANN LEFT!! MERGE LEFT!! Holy shit! Park here, park here, who cares! Just park here! I’ll get your bag Aime just, wow… that’s heavy… okay, YOU get YOUR bag, I’m gonna start running through the parking ramp and act like I know where in the fuck I’m supposed to be going! This chaotic mess will most likely disable you from remembering which row and isle you’re parked in… but hopefully you remember the level and color of the ramp, and God speed if you don’t have a panic button. Good luck if you refuse to see rest areas as a convenience.

Chapter Three-A guide to an enjoyable flight
(the only flight I could find enjoyable at this point would be shoving a rocket up Keith’s ass and hoping he makes an arrival before I do)

Bring an IPod. If you don’t have an IPod bring something relatively close, and ensure when you’re rushing through security that you don’t throw it in your carry on bag… Keith, for Christ’s sake, will you take off your fucking belt already! We’re late! Yes, you have to take your shoes off too… they don’t make this shit up as they go, now come on already! Run! I don’t care if your pants are falling off… hold them! If you have accidentally tossed your MP3 player in the carry on bag and you were the last to board the plane as the seat belt lights flickered on, then you’re subject to sit and listen to foreign languages bounce and reflect off of the airplane walls. I’m sorry you can’t sleep through turbulence; you’re the moron… not me. And Keith! Move over! If I wanted you on my damn lap I would have invited you!

Chapter Four-A guide to possible climate changes
(again, nothing funny or clever, this is self explanatory)

“Swishy” pants, a hooded sweatshirt, 2 t-shirts, under garments, and flip-flops might be an odd assortment of attire but it will not prevent you from sweating your ass off on the plane, freezing to death in the airport, or dying of heat stroke while you wait for your car. Shed the layers or you’ll smell like a rotten gym sock stuffed in a tuna can by the end of your travels.

Chapter Five-A guide to living uncomfortably
(you can’t always have that 3 foot bubble)

Welcome the realization that you’re not the only one taking this trip, there are 4 of you… get used to sharing. How many times a day do you need to brush your teeth? Get out of the bathroom, or I’m pissing in your bed! Share the bed, if you can’t sleep comfortably with another be prepared to take your stead on the floor. LeAnn, if you don’t like the way I cuddle then shove off… it’s not like I was intentionally trying to touch you… I was cold, because you stole all the damn covers! And if you’re the fat, miserable bastard who got a bed to himself the entire trip; watch yourself, someone may smother you with one of the pillows you refuse to share as well.

Chapter Six-A guide to accepting gratuities
(yeah, it’s free so stop your bitching)

Rental cars suck, with or without GPS… so when you’re friend offers her Jeep, and trusts you enough to drive it in unfamiliar territory… try to remain as thankful as possible. Dude! Emily’s car is a fucking turd! What do you mean I can’t let it idle? How am I supposed to get anywhere… do you just run the stop signs??? Oh, oh… put it in neutral. Clever! Well… I don’t think I like New Jersey… nor do I really want to drive around here… dude, I know you’re getting married, and I know you’ve got things to do… but seriously… is this even a road? That we’re on now, this is a road? Really! Huh!
It smells funny here… Yeah; the tux fits…
And if you get lost, get over it… and remember to be polite and courteous to the people helping you out of your predicament. Just because YOU couldn’t write down the directions properly doesn’t mean the people living there are idiots… seriously, it’s you. Keith, you were right there! How could you not see the motel… and what do you mean the car won’t start… USE THE IGNITION KEY!! I thought you were a mechanic once??

Chapter Seven-A guide to wedding participation
(sure you can drink away your problems, but it shouldn’t be on a day of celebration)

I am in full agreement that 150$ worth of alcohol seemed like a great idea at the time. Celebrate! A free cooler… Woo Hoo! But drinking the entire 150$ worth of alcohol on your own when you really don’t know the bride and groom is not a great idea at any time. Keith, c’mon we’re going now. You have NOT been sitting out here for hours; you only missed the last 2 songs. It’s 10 o’clock. What do you mean you drank all the Schnapps, and the Pucker, and the beer?! Hang your damn head out the window. After vomiting on your shoes, the pavement, and the bushes outside the hotel… be sure to treat your friends with kindness. Telling them to “shut up” or “go fuck themselves” is not the greatest way of showing your appreciation when they bring you the wet towel or the empty ice bucket.
And also take into consideration where or when you pass out, repeating “I’m sorry guys” will not really smooth over the fact that your fat ass is laying across the bed with no shirt on.

Chapter Eight-A guide to touring
(camera? Check!)

There is nothing wrong with touring and taking millions of photos. In fact, that’s usually the best part of being a tourist. You will come home to your friends and show off your photos while they ask: what’s this picture of? And at that moment you’ll realize you really have no idea what you were taking pictures of, you have no idea what part of town you were even in, and that guy in the background… yeah, he wasn’t there when you originally took the photo. Ensuring you have the best camera available on the market to fit your needs can be a painstaking process… and might even annoy the shit out of your travel companions if you procrastinated too long with ordering and you’re pissy because it didn’t arrive on time. Keith, what about that camera shop right here? They’ve got shit loads of cameras… and they aren’t too expensive. Fine, if you want to walk around with your cardboard camera, be my guest… but take some Midol and get over yourself before you come touring with me, you are NOT the martyr on this trip asshole… it’s your own damn fault.

Chapter Nine-A guide to survival
(photo i.d.? Check!)

Take notes of the city’s regulations. And when an undercover police officer just asked if you’re from New York and to see your I.D. you can shrug it off as… Sorry Sir, no I didn’t see that sign 10 miles back that said “no smoking” in open airways.
Laugh when you see “honking restrictions” and “speed limit 30” signs as your barreling towards a wall of traffic at 70 mph trying to figure out what country your cabbie is really from. Think of it as a carnival ride when the brake pedals are pushed so hard you’re actually thrown into the front seats… and remain brave Holy shit!, Hahaha ….Aime, LeAnn… you guys can uncover your eyes now… we’re at a stop light.
Pay close attention to the traffic, just because you thought that was a sidewalk doesn’t mean a speeding bus with some missing Hispanic woman’s face on the side of it can’t appear out of nowhere and damn near run your ass over.

Chapter Ten-A guide to self-preservation
(wrapping up the handbook)

Despite everything wickedly sweet you got a taste of, the most overwhelming taste will be the nasty one in the back of your throat… the one irritating everything you’re trying to be a part of, the one aggravating your comfort zones. The vision of what was once a friendship has been tarnished with spite and frustration. Go ahead; walk up the road pissed off because we aren’t doing things your way, Keith… please. Get lost, go curl up next to that bum on the bench, they might listen to you wine, give ‘em a buck… or better yet! Why don’t you play “hide and go fuck yourself?” while I attempt to enjoy the rest of my trip! There are lessons to be learned here… I’m just so pissed off I can’t think of any.