Travel Destinations
When writing my CrosbyReports, the travel destinations themselves are of no importance. In fact, to be perfectly honest, they’re almost beside the point. They’re nothing more than a subject or topic around which to make stupid jokes. So if you’re expecting to learn something useful about travel destinations like Lisbon, the Sahara, or Tahiti, you will be sorely disappointed. My apologies.
The Playboy Mansion, LA: I’ve finally found my dream house.
I finally see the home of my dreams: The Playboy Mansion.
Sint Maarten, Netherlands Antilles: It’s French. No, it’s Dutch. No, French…
It’s Sint Maarten, Netherlands Antilles on one side, and Saint Martin, French West Indies on the other. Weird, right?
London, England: London calling. (Collect, most likely.)
Despite being of English descent, I’d never visited the Motherland before. And, as it turned out, with good reason.
Paris France: The city of lights and total jerks.
Our first introduction to France lived up to all the horrible stereotypes we’d heard about Parisians.
Venice Italy: See this unforgettable city before it sinks and is forgotten.
It’s not Atlantis, not yet any way.
Florence Italy: You say “Florence,” I say “Firenze.” And I’d be right.
We took a train to Florence, Italy.
Rome Italy: The cradle of civilization (and toga parties).
We boarded the 747 figuring, “What more harm could another plane full of self-important hicks do to America’s already sagging reputation overseas?”
Italy, France, and Britain: Our glamorous, 3-week European vacation.
We wanted to see the Old World before it gets too old and flabby.
Cabo San Lucas: A spectacular paradise we’ll probably never go back to.
Cabo exists solely to offer foreigners fishing, golf, liver-damage and skin cancer.
Calistoga California: How we spent our 6th anniversary, and I do mean “spent.”
We spend our 6th anniversary at a BnB.