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   I hate long trips. Any venture that requires patience and sustained bladder control is not for me. I'd rather endure a jalapeño enema while being water-boarded than go on a long dismal trip. I won't go on a commercial flight unless I'm guaranteed a cavity search by one of those overweight TSA frisk ladies and then I must have an entire roll of seats to myself next to the crapper. Bus trips? Not unless the bus is transporting my casket along with all my in-laws in attendance. A long car trip? That's not too bad just as long as we stop at every Denny's and road-kill. Yep, I do hate to travel.

     Wifey seems to enjoy long excursions and road adventures. She will even endure a long bus trip, which I believe reminds her of her youth when they would come into town on a Saturday night and pick up all the bored girls and bus them out to the local army barracks for R&R with the troops going to Nam. Debaucherious memories.  

     Well...at my accelerated age, I am now content to stay home and watch the TRAVEL channel and police chases on COPS. Sure, Wifey bugs the crap out of me about going antique hunting in the next town or hemisphere, or maybe out with her to some desolate park to breathe in the fresh pollen saturated air and to commune with rabid squirrels. But, I resist the temptation and fully believe that if God had meant for mankind to frolic forth on long journeys, he would not have been so generous with the arthritis and stingy with bladder size. Besides...I haven't been on a good trip since the seventies.

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