Suddenly, all the stories of dumb tourists who went into the desert with the Bedouins, only to be raped, robbed, or murdered, seemed like they were headed our way.
Almost all of the greatest loves (and tragedies) of my life have been painful and incurable. I’ve started to think of myself as a hopeless poet who is forever a slave to forbidden or unrequited love.
Just once, I wanted the choice to be who I was, without anyone knowing my history or telling me what to do.
I met Maia, a twenty-year-old girl from just outside of Oslo who was backpacking her way around Europe, surviving off her monthly allowance from the Norwegian government.
In the end, I did lay in bed, thinking just one thought. That thought kept repeating in my head like a mantra. It was raw desire. It was, “knock on my door and kiss me.”
I found a city with it’s past so prominent, from the bullet holes in the buildings to the war monuments all over the city. Still, Warsaw stood strong.
Doing stand up comedy is weird. One minute you’re shaking from nerves and fumbling with the mic, the next you feel like an invincible genius who will literally never die.
The best and worst part of traveling is the friends you make. You’ll maybe meet your friend-soulmate (or your actual soulmate) and make lifelong memories. Then….you leave. Or they leave. And it sucks.