Friends, I have a confession.


is alcoholism my confession?

This realization took a while and it’s very hard for me to admit. Yet here I am today, sitting in front of my computer screen to admit the problem that has been plaguing my life. So here it goes:

Hi, my name is Kayleigh, and I am a travel snob.

My narrative for this discovery begins with beautiful hardship and exhilarating difficulties, but then takes a dark turn into crippling comfort and incessant pampering.

Sound a little strange? Yeah, to me, too.

Reading time: 6 min

The morning bell woke me from my deep and tranquil slumber. I have never been known to be a morning person, but this particular morning was different. My eyes shot open and my head sprung up, ready for the day. I looked around briefly. Doghouses lined the yard. Strange. I don’t remember nodding off at Chena Hot Springs when I visited yesterday.

A caretaker in a green uniform approached. I had a sudden urge to greet her and please her in whichever way I could. Her mouth moved and she said something I couldn’t understand; I assumed it was an alien command for me to obey. She reached down and petted my head, ruffled my cheeks, and formed a kissy face so irresistible I licked it with fervor. Startled, she retreated and moved to the awaiting dog to my right.

I felt naked but was strangely warm. I reached down to check my cellphone. It was nowhere to be found. It finally dawned on me that I had been sleeping on the ground next to a doghouse. Was I involved in some kind of cocaine party last night? I stood up to survey the yard and felt surprisingly refreshed, full of energy and eagerness to run forever. But why did it feel like I was standing on all fours? I looked down.

Hold the phone.

Reading time: 7 min

Murder. We were going to get murdered; I was sure of it. The dark and empty parking lot at the end of HWY 130 eerily reminded me with every rustle of the leaves of our precarious state. There we sat, in the middle of nowhere with no civilization for miles, in our rental waiting for our supposed tour guide at 3 AM in the morning. The flickering of a lonely light bulb in a sea of light poles with broken light bulbs sent chills up my spine. I clenched my fist firmly on the only available object that could be used as a weapon, a half empty coffee mug. Now and then my eyes played tricks on me and I would see a young girl in white pajamas strutting across the road and disappearing into the dense forest. I always joked that characters in horror movies deserve to die because of their stupid curiosity, always running into dark and ominous settings. But here we were, decidedly staying in this prophetic scene, hoping for the best.

We waited. No one came.

I got annoyed and grabbed the key to turn the ignition. A bright light shot around the corner and stopped my heart momentarily. Time stood still. Was this the bright light people always suggested before you leave the mundane world?

As the light inched its way closer to us, I made out a man rolling down the window. Who has manual windows anymore these days? Murderers! His beastly arm shot out. These windows better be bulletproof!

He waved and signaled for us to follow him. “Come on! Follow me!”

Reading time: 6 min
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