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Yukking it up at western New York State's comedy museums

“You’re going to a what?” asked my friend apprehensively. Yup. A hotel. Three of them actually for a total of six days as part of an " Empire State Road Trip" in upstate New York in early September, sponsored by the Harbor Hotels Collection. I felt cautiously optimistic until my friend pointed out – with some degree of pleasure, I thought – that no matter how scrubbed down the room was, how many masks were in evidence or social distance maintained, if such was even possible in a hotel setting,…

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'The beach was too sandy' - 20 of travellers' most ridiculous complaints

In these trying times, we can all use a laugh. And when it comes to travel, the general public can usually be relied upon for prime material. I just recently again came across a clipping that came out several years ago, in which a survey by the Association of British Travel Agents revealed 20 of the most ridiculous complaints by holidaymakers. So check out the following - some are merely ill informed, while others are silly, and still others downright jawdroppingly stupid. To whit: read post

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Laughs at Georgia's Laurel and Hardy Museum

Stan Laurel and Oliver (nickname Babe) Hardy were one of the most famous comedy teams in the world during their 25-year run, from 1926 until 1951, when they both semi-retired due to illness. The boys are still a favorite today when selecting older comedy movies to watch. Hardy died in 1956 and Laurel in 1965. While Stan Laurel was born in England and raised in Scotland, Oliver Hardy was a “good ole Georgia boy”  born in Harlem, Georgia and guess what?……. that’s where the fun Laurel and Hardy…

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First Sight at the Half the World- Isfahan, Iran

I arrived at Isfahan at 5:30 in the morning when the bus terminus was gradually wake up at dawn. The travelers scattered around as if the station was conducting its metabolism. Sleepy, I lean against the chair to wait for the conductor. After reassuring the timetable of the bus towards the international airport, I bought the ticket for fourth day after. Isfahan would be my trip termination of Iran. The moment when I stepped out of the station, the street there was filled with taxi, taking away…

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  • As I am travelling about the world, currently SE Asia,I try to stay in touch with friends thru emails and my blog. May of my friends use FaceBook and criticize me for not having a FaceBook account. I think I am alone in that category, except for maybe the Pope. Nah, I'll be he has one as well.

    Why don't I have one. Because not only is it invasive, used for unscrupulous invasions of privacy, but it is so so damn lame.
    Facebook is to blogging, or even email, as golf is to the NBA. It has decimated writing styles so much I can't stand it.
    Following are some "Samples" and replies I would send if the messages were sent to me.
    "just went swimming, feel so good"
    Masterbate, feels better.
    "Going out to dinner tonight with an old chum"
    Great, try not to get drunk and kill anyone else on the road while you are texting us all what you had for dinner.
    "My mother turns 60 today!"
    Interesting, you are what? 47?
    "I just got a new puppy"
    Feed it high protein food and sell it to a Vietnamese restaurant in 6 months.

    Get it now? See why I am not on FaceBonk?
  • Ripped straight from today's headlines...shocking but true...sort of...a major cruise line's private island was inadvertently sucked up by some overly zealous Eco-Do-Gooders...check it out.
  • check out my story just posted on

    "How to find love (or just sex with foreigners) at 35,000 feet"
  • Sitting in a Starbucks in Chiang Mai I feel like I am in a familiar place. This could be the Starbucks in Perth, in Lima, in Panama City, West Los Angeles, NYC or Dubai. Every civilized place on the planet has at least one. Sorry Bocas. Chiang Mai has like seven. On any continent they are all exactly alike. The only difference is the décor on the “personalized” mugs they try to sell you.
    What’s more, the same people who stood in line in front of me in Perth or West LA or NYC stand in line in front of me in Chiang Mai, and everywhere else. They all ask for just about the same thing. The session goes something like this.
    “I’ll have a half latte, half mocha, half cappuccino with half cream and make it only half hot please.”
    By the time the barista, usually a college educated person in their mid twenties bummed at using their degree in Philosophy to do chemistry experiments with coffee beans, is ready to serve me, I am perturbed. My problem, fine. Here is how my order goes.
    “I’ll have a small black coffee”
    “Will that be mocha or a cappuccino?
    “Fresh cream from Sumatran sacred goats in that sir?”
    “Black, a small black coffee”
    “A grande then”
    “No. Didn’t you learn anything at Harvard? Grande means big, large, and bigger than small. I want, again, now listen hard, A SMALL BLACK COFEE”
    “Do you want Columbian, Kenyan, Costa Rican or our house blend?”
    “If it is black, and you don’t ask another question, I don’t care.”
    A brief roll of the eyes that say “I should have gone to grad school” is followed by “Yes sir, that will be (Insert too high a price in any currency here)”
    But this is just my problem. I’m glad I did not graduate into this economy, so I still tip them.
    If you decide to come to Chiang Mai, I’ll meet you in the Starbucks by the Thai Pea gate. Anytime. The guy quoting Thoreau in Thai is my waiter.
  • Funny comment on this item by Jennifer Merigan in the Australia group.

    The Telegraph (UK) reports that a man from eastern Australia visiting western Australia climbed into an enclosure with sea crocodiles and tried to mount one called Fatso. "Police said he had been ejected from a nearby pub for being too drunk before he decided to scale a barbed wire fence to get a closer look at the reptile and give him a pat...."

    The local police chief reported, "He has attempted to sit on its back and the croc has taken offence to that." The guy is now recuperating in a hospital.
  • Great article on AOL today about airline ads & commercials that make you gasp, laugh, or just plain wonder what they were smoking.

    For starters, we have Air New Zealand parading its flight crew clad in nothing but body paint (below)... but my personal favorite (meaning, the one that actually made me choke on my morning coffee): The Uzbekistan Airways ad depicting a plane rushing headlong into a dense cloud with the caption "Good Luck." Enjoy!

  • I tend to have rather funny things happen to me when I travel. Perhaps it is because I travel for fun, usually. I don't mind much, except standing in line at immigration in a place like Lima Peru. In Lima, at least three jumbos arrive within a half hour of each other at night, about midnight. The immigration post has a dozen or so stations, of which two or three are manned. The line snakes back outside of the immigration room, into an adjoining hallway, where people crush and elbow their way towards the official lines, only to stand there for another hour.
    But onto something humorous.
    I had just arrived from Panama in Atlanta. I had to catch a plane to Los Angeles.
    Therefore, I had to pass through the TSA security post to get into the domestic side of the airport.
    I had been living on an island for over two years at the time, and through no effort on my part, I had lost over twenty pounds. This was not a problem, except that all my clothes, especially my Levis were too big for me now.
    Also, I carry my cash/credit cards and and passport in a travel bag around my neck. Because it is both uncomfortable and unsightly to wear it over my stomach, I wear it under one arm. This means that in order to take it off, I must remove my shirt. More on that in a moment.
    When it was my turn at the metal detector, the middle-aged, minimum waged and minimum trained TSA guy told me to remove my belt.
    "Sir, I have lost 20 pounds living in Panama. If I remove my belt, my pants will fall down."
    Steely eyed and like a brainless automaton, he repeated "Remove your belt."
    So, having no alternative other than walking to Los Angeles, I removed my belt. I was now standing in line in front of a lot of business travellers, holding my pants up with one hand. Mr. TSA noticed the travel bag and asked "What is that?"
    I replied as nicely as I could "My passport holder,sir." (perhaps the sir came out snidely, knowing me it did)
    "Take it off" he demanded.
    "Sir (snidely) to take it off I must take off my shirt. To take off my shirt, I have to let go of my pants, and I promise you sir (very snidely) they will fall down."
    "Take it off" the man said.
    I let go of my pants. They fell to my knees. I unbuttoned my Hawaiian shirt and removed it so I could get the passport holder off. I threw the shirt into the plastic bucket with my belt and other items. I had been en-route for 9 hours, and I was very worried that my BVD's were in a condition that would shame my mother, even though she was not there at the time. I pulled up my pants, holding onto them like my pride depended on it, which it did.
    The TSA man said, before I got to the metal detector "Hey, put your shirt back on".
    "Sir, (again, snidely) if I let go of my pants they will fall down again. Don't you think these people behind me have seen enough of the behind of me?"
    "Put you shirt back on".
    "Yes SIR" (very snidely)
    I let my pants drop and slowly slipped into my Aloha shirt and buttoned it. I turned to watch the business travelers behind me. Half were harried because I was their worst nightmare, that being someone who cost them time, and the other half were smiling or laughing. I gave them all a big smile and said "Hey, at least we are safe in the air!"
  • Check out our April Fool's Day post on the Tripatini blog!
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