Listen, I get around. I’m a world traveler extraordinaire.
Heck, I been to two goat ropings and a rodeo for goodness sakes.
But I’ll tell you what drives me crazy.
Jet lag trans-oceanic style.
You know how you fly out of GNV in the morning? And then have to hang around in Atlanta for several hours? And then fly out just as the sun is going down to make that seven-plus hour hop across The Big Pond?
I dunno about you. But you could hold a gun to my head and I couldn’t manage to sleep on a plane.
And then you arrive in Paris at the crack of dawn. Feeling drawn and haggard and bleary eyed.
And knowing it’s gonna be several hours before the hotel will let you into your room.
Well I’ve got the perfect trans-oceanic jet lag antidote.
And I thought of it. Not Elon Musk. Not Jeff Bezos. And they both think they’re ’idea men.’
Ha!
It’s called the on-off bus tour cure.
I first discovered it in Berlin.
And I perfected the technique in Paris.
I’m thinking of taking a patent out on it before Elon and Bezos get the jump on me.
It doesn’t matter if your brain is in a fog. Once you get aboard you don’t have to do anything.
You are dimly aware that you are seeing stuff.
Naked ladies in bronze. A river running through it. People scurrying hither and yon.
And listen, we’re talking history. And culture.
And pointy things jutting up into the air.
And I even got to see some of it between cat naps.
But sometimes, friends and neighbors, life plays you dirty tricks.
After hanging out on the on-off tour bus for a sufficient duration, I finally hopped off and made my way to the hotel.
And hence to my room.
Where I laid myself down for a much needed rest.
ONLY TO FIND THAT I COULDN’T SLEEP!
But worry not, friends and neighbors.
I have the perfect antidote for post trans-oceanic jet lag insomnia.
It’s called the after dark river cruise.
Sure, they pack you onto those cruise boats like so many sardines. Cheek to jowl and such.
But once they cast off, everything becomes sort of magical in your bleary eyes.
And after awhile you can’t really decide if the river really is lit up like a Christmas tree.
Or if you are just hallucinating.
And it matters not.
All I know is that by the time the tour boat was guided back to dock by that great Eiffel Tower beacon in the sky…
…and I made my way back to the hotel…
…I was cured!
Slept like the dead.
Like I’d just invented sleep.
You’re welcome fellow sophisticated world travelers.
FreeGNV 