From New York to Madagascar in Five Hours
Nonfiction, Reference & Language, Language Arts, Writing & Publishing, Authorship, Travel
| Author: | Lillian McGowan | ISBN: | 9781310152023 |
| Publisher: | Lillian McGowan | Publication: | May 9, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Lillian McGowan |
| ISBN: | 9781310152023 |
| Publisher: | Lillian McGowan |
| Publication: | May 9, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
My name’s Lillian. You don’t know me. If you saw me in the grocery store, you’d walk past me without blinking. And if we met, you wouldn’t ask for my autograph. You’d only notice me if one of my kids bumped into you while you were checking the price of a glass container of hot sauce, it fell to the ground, shattered into a million pieces, and you instinctively shot your eyes up at the mother of the four foot bullet of energy who just ruined your brand new white shoes.
But, like every other non-famous person in the world, I’ve got a story. Mine’s a bit different than the norm, though, because it senselessly circles the globe a couple of times in the process.
Like I said, I’m pretty much an ‘Average Jane.’ I watch popular TV shows like everybody else. But, I prefer watching them on my smart phone while coating my thighs in coffee, cocoa powder, and olive oil in the bathtub. It’s supposed to help with the cellulite. I like breakfast cereals. Yesterday, I had mine with pickle juice instead of milk because I was too lazy to drive to the supermarket. I think next time, I’ll just skip breakfast. Who am I kidding?...I’ve never skipped a meal in my life. And, I enjoy picking up my kids from school instead of having them take the bus. Yesterday, I accidentally wore two different shoes to pick up my son. His teacher enjoyed that.
Also, the first time I got on a plane, my life changed. Uncomfortable, stained, smelly seats, bizarrely prepared near-food, and stumbling like a drunkard in bathrooms from turbulence instantly became my own personal drug.
Along with the journey, I’m also addicted to the destination. I love finding myself lost, and not being able to communicate to the people around me that I am. I even enjoy trying new foods that I can’t pronounce (or stomach). I love every minute of it. I even love the minutes that I hate. At this point in my life, if I sit in one country more than a year at a time, I start twitching like a detoxifying heroin addict.
From New York to Madagascar in Five Hours will take you through a wild range of off the beaten path travels, like sweating through three layers of clothing in Saudi Arabian taxi cabs, or hiking on deserted beaches in the South Pacific.
All the events in this book unexpectedly happened to me. And, if I of all people lived them, then you might one day too. If you don’t intend to travel, or even if you’ve never left your home state, keep a suitcase packed just in case. You never know what will happen in your life to make you say “A 27 hour trip through three different continents with two small children and eight suitcases that leaves tomorrow morning? Sure, no problem.”
As you chuckle your way around the world in this book, I recommend you take notes. Be entertained. Pity my lack of organization. Then, don’t repeat. Learn from my hair-brained experiences, and then maybe you won’t end up in a crowded café in JFK looking for your wallet in your little girl’s pink unicorn pocket book because you brought the wrong carryon…again.
My name’s Lillian. You don’t know me. If you saw me in the grocery store, you’d walk past me without blinking. And if we met, you wouldn’t ask for my autograph. You’d only notice me if one of my kids bumped into you while you were checking the price of a glass container of hot sauce, it fell to the ground, shattered into a million pieces, and you instinctively shot your eyes up at the mother of the four foot bullet of energy who just ruined your brand new white shoes.
But, like every other non-famous person in the world, I’ve got a story. Mine’s a bit different than the norm, though, because it senselessly circles the globe a couple of times in the process.
Like I said, I’m pretty much an ‘Average Jane.’ I watch popular TV shows like everybody else. But, I prefer watching them on my smart phone while coating my thighs in coffee, cocoa powder, and olive oil in the bathtub. It’s supposed to help with the cellulite. I like breakfast cereals. Yesterday, I had mine with pickle juice instead of milk because I was too lazy to drive to the supermarket. I think next time, I’ll just skip breakfast. Who am I kidding?...I’ve never skipped a meal in my life. And, I enjoy picking up my kids from school instead of having them take the bus. Yesterday, I accidentally wore two different shoes to pick up my son. His teacher enjoyed that.
Also, the first time I got on a plane, my life changed. Uncomfortable, stained, smelly seats, bizarrely prepared near-food, and stumbling like a drunkard in bathrooms from turbulence instantly became my own personal drug.
Along with the journey, I’m also addicted to the destination. I love finding myself lost, and not being able to communicate to the people around me that I am. I even enjoy trying new foods that I can’t pronounce (or stomach). I love every minute of it. I even love the minutes that I hate. At this point in my life, if I sit in one country more than a year at a time, I start twitching like a detoxifying heroin addict.
From New York to Madagascar in Five Hours will take you through a wild range of off the beaten path travels, like sweating through three layers of clothing in Saudi Arabian taxi cabs, or hiking on deserted beaches in the South Pacific.
All the events in this book unexpectedly happened to me. And, if I of all people lived them, then you might one day too. If you don’t intend to travel, or even if you’ve never left your home state, keep a suitcase packed just in case. You never know what will happen in your life to make you say “A 27 hour trip through three different continents with two small children and eight suitcases that leaves tomorrow morning? Sure, no problem.”
As you chuckle your way around the world in this book, I recommend you take notes. Be entertained. Pity my lack of organization. Then, don’t repeat. Learn from my hair-brained experiences, and then maybe you won’t end up in a crowded café in JFK looking for your wallet in your little girl’s pink unicorn pocket book because you brought the wrong carryon…again.
