The Only Places You'll Go
My first travel guide article was for Texas Monthly. I did five hundred words on “Things to do in Amarillo on your way to Colorado.” My family and I happened to be driving to Colorado Springs, and a friend from journalism school needed a favor. We rolled into town in the early evening on a Sunday, and our options were limited. We stayed at an unexpectedly nice Embassy Suites across the street from the minor league baseball stadium, which was hosting a regional livestock show and rodeo. There were only two restaurants open—a steakhouse and a barbeque joint. The piece pretty much wrote itself. The editor said she liked how oddly specific it was and the “you have no other option” angle. I meant it literally in that case, but she saw it as a hook, so I ran with it.
I started writing articles on all kinds of random places. When work sends you to Shawnee, Oklahoma, on a Thursday in the dead of winter, there’s only one place to go. If you suspect your wife is having an affair and you follow her to Dimebox, Texas, during their crawfish festival, you absolutely MUST stay at this rustic motel.
I kept it within a reasonable driving distance at first, but before long, I began requesting plane tickets and expense money to expand my work across the country. For a time, I would try several popular restaurants, multiple activities with a local flavor, and choose a short list of notable things to see while in town. I tried to ensure I was providing legitimate insights, even in the context of my stylistic constraints.
I enjoyed those days as long as possible, but it grew exhausting. Once I felt I had established a reputation for consistently trustworthy recommendations, I began to cut corners. For example, I went to Truckee, California, near Lake Tahoe to write a piece I’d submit to Outdoor Life and wrote the entire article based on two conversations I had in my first thirty minutes in town. I asked the old lady at the hotel’s reception desk to tell me the most popular places to eat. After that, I walked to the 711 and a scruffy local washing his clothes in the parking lot gave me a list of things to do outdoors that didn’t involve driving over to the lake. I ended up with a unique piece called “How to make the best of it when your car breaks down twenty-five miles from Lake Tahoe and you don’t get paid until next Friday”.
The main hiccup in my considerably more relaxed approach came when I couldn’t find anyone to provide any useful ideas or properly describe them. If all I could get was “Fridays” or “Dave and Busters”, I’d have to venture out like the old days. It wasn’t long before I lost my sense of direction entirely and the quality of my work declined.
A piece instructing where to go when work is scarce and you can’t afford champagne in Champaign, Illinois, was the low point. I suggested in that situation the only place to go was a drive-in movie theater that, while non-operational, still “allowed” visitors for street fighting. After that, you limp over to the tiny library on West 81st Street, then crash a house party at a kid named Aaron’s house. Work slowed after that, and I grew bored at home telling my wife and kids how to spend their time.
When I told my wife she just had to check out a new gym in midtown, a day spa down the street, and a boutique on the west side, she strongly recommended the couch and a family lawyer. I committed to turning things around. Not for my family so much, but for my career.
I decided to get back to what got me started. I still believe I can find the perfect trip and write about it so beautifully that readers feel they have no option but to experience it firsthand. I still believe I can get something published and see my name in print. For now, I keep trying, because it’s the only thing I can do. So, if your life is in shambles and you’re a failed travel writer camping temporarily at Lady Bird Johnson State Park near Fredricksburg, Texas, you HAVE to eat at “Airport Diner”. They are only open between 11 and 2, but the retro décor is nostalgic and they’re willing to sell chicken fingers 2 for $2. Get a booth facing the private airstrip.
- Written for “How You Should Spend Your Time