You see, I wasn’t always a bad trav

You see, I wasn’t always a bad traveler. For a brief period of my life, circa ages eighteen to twenty-five, I was pretty good, and by good, I mean I got around without panic attacks or unfortunate fecal incidents or kitty terrors. (I even accepted an impromptu invite for a guided tour from a total stranger. Take from that what you will.) One might even go so far as to describe me with the adjective of “adventurous.” Might.Whatever I was. Whatever I am even today, I’ve always had a wanderlust I couldn’t shake, a curiosity about the grass on the other side. I blame this on my mother and Walt Disney.