A Blip of Existence

The first time I traveled out of state was when I was ten years old. My father worked for an oil company, and was supposed to take a routine class in Chicago. I had never gone anywhere before, and now was my chance. The plane ride was long, but I enjoyed looking at the impractical contraptions in Sky Mall. The self-cleaning litter box distracted me from the turbulence and discomfort. The plane finally landed, and we spent two hours looking for a place to eat. By then, I couldn't eat anything at all, so I was not a happy camper. Most of the time my mother and I stayed in the hotel while I swam in the pool or played with overpriced toys from the gift shop downstairs. The only interesting things I remember are going to a museum full of ships, going to a pizza place, and seeing lake Michigan out of the window. If I appreciated any of those things, it was seeing the glistening of the lake during this weird vacation I did not understand. The point of all of this is that, I do not really have a travel story. I have not been anywhere out of country or anywhere interesting at all. I live in Alabama, and have never really left the South. There is nothing more I would rather do than go on adventures, and write about it.