Dave Barry’s Only Travel Guide You’ll Ever Need

Family travel has been an American tradition ever since the days when hardy pioneer families crossed the Great Plains in oxen-drawn covered wagons, braving harsh weather, hostile Native Americans, unforgiving terrain, scarce food, and—worst of all—the constant whining coming from the backseat:

“Are we there yet?” “Hey! THESE plains aren’t so great!” “Mom, Ezra is making hostile gestures at those Native Americans!” “Are we almost there?” “Mom! Rebecca dumped some unforgiving terrain into my scarce food!” “PLEASE can we stop here and settle Kansas please please PLEASE??” “Yuck! We’re eating bison again?” “When are we going to be there?” “Mom! Little Ben put oxen poop in his hair!”

Yes, it was brutally hard, but those brave pioneers kept going, day after day, month after month, never stopping, and do you know why? Because Dad was driving, that’s why. When Dad is driving, he never stops for anything. This is part of the Guy Code of Conduct. A lot of those early pioneer dads, when they got to California, drove their wagons directly into the Pacific Ocean and would probably have continued to Japan if it hadn’t been for shark damage to the oxen.

Another part of the Guy Code of Conduct still in effect is that only Dad can drive. If necessary, Dad will permanently bond his hands to the steering wheel with Krazy Glue to prevent Mom from driving, because he knows that if she had the wheel, she might suffer a lapse of judgment and decide to actually stop for something, such as food or sleep or medical care for little Jennifer, whose appendix has apparently burst. No, Dad will not allow minor distractions such as these to interfere with his vacation schedule, which looks like this:

6:00-6:15 A.M.: See Yellowstone National Park 6:15-6:25 A.M.: See Grand Canyon 6:15-7:00 A.M.: See Latin America

What Dad means by “see,” of course, is “drive past at 67 miles per hour.” Dad feels it is a foolish waste of valuable vacation time to get out of the car and actually go look at an attraction such as the White House, Niagara Falls, the Louvre, etc.

I myself have been guilty of this behavior. Once we were driving across the country and we got to South Dakota, a dirt-intensive state so sparsely populated that merely by entering it you automatically become a member of the legislature. A major tourist attraction in South Dakota is something called “Wall Drug,” which is basically a group of stores advertised by a string of billboards that begins somewhere outside of the solar system. My wife, Beth, wanted to stop. Her reasoning was that we had driven hundreds of miles that day with absolutely no activity to relieve our boredom except eating Stuckey’s miniature pecan pies at the rate of approximately three pies per person per hour. And so as we drew closer to Wall Drug, passing billboard after billboard—157 miles to go, 153 miles to go, 146 miles to go, etc.—her anticipation mounted, until finally we were there, and Beth’s excitement reached a fever pitch because this was the only point of interest for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles, and of course I elected to whiz right past it, as though I had an important appointment elsewhere in South Dakota to pick up an urgent load of manure.

You know how certain incidents become permanent sore points in a marriage? Like for example a husband will never let his wife forget the time she left a $2,000 video camera where the baby could get hold of it and drop it into the toilet? That’s the status that the Wall Drug Incident has achieved in our marriage. My wife feels that we’re the only people in the history of interstate travel who failed to stop there, and, fifteen years later, she is still bitter. If she ever files for a divorce, this is the first incident she’ll mention to the lawyer. And that’s the wonderful thing about family travel: it provides you with experiences that will remain locked forever in the scar tissue of your mind. Especially if you travel with children. We traveled extensively with our son Robert when he was very young, and I have many, many vivid memories of that period, all of which involve public rest rooms.

As you parents know, a small child can go for weeks without going to the bathroom at home, but once you hit the road, it becomes pretty much a full-time occupation. During my son Robert’s early years, he and I visited just about every men’s room on the East Coast. And if it was a really disgusting men’s room, a men’s room that contained the skeletons of Board of Health workers who died trying to inspect it, Robert would inevitably announce that he had to do Number Two.

So he’d go into a stall and close the door, and his little legs would disappear, and he’d remain there for as long as two days. God alone knows what he was doing in there. Meanwhile, of course, I’d stand guard outside the stall, because you can’t leave a three-year-old alone. Inevitably strangers would come in, and there I’d be, apparently just hanging out alone in a men’s room, and they’d look at me suspiciously. So in an effort to reassure these strangers that I was a Father on Duty, as opposed to some kind of lurking men’s-room pervert, I’d try to strike up a conversation with Robert through the stall door:

ME: So, Robert, my three-year-old son who is inside this stall that I’m guarding as a responsible parent! How’s it going in there?

STALL DOOR: (silence)

ME: Ha ha! Speak up, Robert!

STALL DOOR: (silence)

And the strangers would turn and stride quickly out the door, because nobody wants to be in a public rest room with a person who’s talking to a toilet stall.

Of course, if there’s anything more exciting than traveling with a child, it’s traveling with several children. We ourselves have only one child, because after Beth experienced the Joy and Wonder of natural childbirth, she decided not to experience it again until modern science invents a method whereby the man has the contractions. But we have taken Robert’s friends with us on numerous trips, and we have noted a phenomenon familiar to all parents, namely that you would have less conflict if you put the entire North and South Korean armed forces in your backseat than you get with just two children.

Children sitting in backseats are incapable of normal human conversation. Their conversational responses are all intended to raise the level of backseat hostility to the point where one party has no viable option but to spit Yoo– hoo into the other party’s hair.

Examples

STATEMENT OF CHILD: Hey! I saw a horse!

RESPONSE OF NORMAL HUMAN: Where?

RESPONSE OF OTHER CHILD IN BACKSEAT: So what? (Or: “You did not.”)

STATEMENT OF CHILD: I like this song.

RESPONSE OF NORMAL HUMAN: That’s nice.

RESPONSE OF OTHER CHILD IN BACKSEAT: So what? (Or: “You do not.”) (Or: “This song sucks.”)

STATEMENT OF CHILD: In a right triangle, the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides.

RESPONSE OF NORMAL HUMAN: That is correct.

RESPONSE OF OTHER CHILD IN BACKSEAT: You suck.

One way to try to reduce the hostility level is to keep the children amused with Traditional Fun Car Games, such as watching for other cars’ license plates and seeing who can find the one from the most distant state. This exciting activity is sure to captivate the children and provide hours of enjoyment (“I see one from Iowa!” “No you don’t!” “So what?” “You suck!”).

But for real family travel fun, there’s no substitute for actually reaching some kind of destination. And the Number One family travel destination of all, as measured in total miles of people waiting in line, is of course:

The Walt “You Will Have Fun” Disney World Themed Shopping Complex And Resort Compound

I’m an expert on visiting Disney World, because we live only four hours away, and according to my records we spend about three-fifths of our after-tax income there. Not that I’m complaining. You can’t have a bad time at Disney World. It’s not allowed. They have hidden electronic surveillance cameras everywhere, and if they catch you failing to laugh with childlike wonder, they lock you inside a costume representing a beloved Disney character such as Goofy and make you walk around in the Florida heat getting grabbed and leaped on by violently excited children until you have learned your lesson. Yes, Disney World is a “dream vacation,” and here are some tips to help make it “come true” for you!

When to Go: The best time to go, if you want to avoid huge crowds, is 1962. How to Get There: It’s possible to fly, but if you want the total Disney World experience, you should drive there with a minimum of four hostile children via the longest possible route. If you live in Georgia, for example, you should plan a route that includes Oklahoma.

Once you get to Florida, you can’t miss Disney World, because the Disney corporation owns the entire center of the state. Just get on any major highway, and eventually it will dead-end in a Disney parking area large enough to have its own climate, populated by large nomadic families who have been trying to find their cars since the Carter administration. Be sure to note carefully where you leave your car, because later on you may want to sell it so you can pay for your admission tickets.

But never mind the price; the point is that now you’re finally there, in the ultimate vacation fantasy paradise, ready to have fun! Well, okay, you’re not exactly there yet. First you have to wait for the parking-lot tram, driven by cheerful uniformed Disney employees, to come around and pick you up and give you a helpful lecture about basic tram-safety rules such as never fall out of the tram without coming to a full and complete stop. But now the tram ride is over and it’s time for fun! Right? Don’t be an idiot. It’s time to wait in line to buy admission tickets. Most experts recommend that you go with the 47-day pass, which will give you a chance, if you never eat or sleep, to visit all of the Disney themed attractions, including The City of the Future, The Land of Yesterday, The Dull Suburban Residential Community of Sometime Next Month, Wet Adventure, Farms on Mars, The World of Furniture, Sponge Encounter, the Nuclear Flute Orchestra, Appliance Island, and the Great Underwater Robot Hairdresser Adventure, to name just a few.

Okay, you’ve taken out a second mortgage and purchased your tickets! Now, finally, it’s time to ... wait in line again! This time, it’s for the monorail, a modern, futuristic transportation system that whisks you to the Magic Kingdom at nearly half the speed of a lawn tractor. Along the way cheerful uniformed Disney World employees will offer you some helpful monorail-safety tips such as never set fire to the monorail without first removing your personal belongings.

And now, at last, you’re at the entrance to the Magic Kingdom itself! No more waiting in line for transportation! It’s time to wait in line to get in. Wow! Look at all the other people waiting to get in! There are tour groups here with names like “Entire Population of Indiana.” There sure must be some great attractions inside these gates!

And now you’ve inched your way to the front of the line, and the cheerful uniformed Disney employee is stamping your hand with a special invisible chemical that penetrates your nervous system and causes you to temporarily acquire the personality of a cow. “Moo!” you shout as you surge forward with the rest of the herd.

And now, unbelievably, you’re actually inside the Magic Kingdom! At last! Mecca! You crane your head to see over the crowd around you, and with innocent childlike wonder you behold: a much larger crowd. Ha ha! You are having some kind of fun now!

And now you are pushing your way forward, thrusting other vacationers aside, knocking over their strollers if necessary, because little Jason wants to ride on Space Mountain. Little Jason has been talking about Space Mountain ever since Oklahoma, and by God you’re going to take him on it, no matter how long the ... My God! Can this be the line for Space Mountain? This line is so long that there are Cro-Magnon families at the front! Perhaps if you explain to little Jason that he could be a deceased old man by the time he gets on the actual ride, he’ll agree to skip it and ... NO! Don’t scream, little Jason! We’ll just purchase some official Mickey Mouse sleeping bags, and we’ll stay in line as long as it takes! The hell with third grade! We’ll just stand here and chew our cuds! Mooooo!

Speaking of education, you should be sure to visit Epcot Center, which features exhibits sponsored by large corporations showing you how various challenges facing the human race are being met and overcome thanks to the selfless efforts of large corporations. Epcot Center also features pavilions built by various foreign nations, where you can experience an extremely realistic simulation of what life in these nations would be like if they consisted almost entirely of restaurants and souvenir stores.

One memorable Epcot night my family and I ate at the German restaurant, where I had several large beers and a traditional German delicacy called “Bloatwurst,” which is a sausage that can either be eaten or used as a tackling dummy. When we got out I felt like one of those snakes that eat a cow whole and then just lie around and digest it for a couple of months. But my son was determined to go on a new educational Epcot ride called “The Body,” wherein you sit in a compartment that simulates what it would be like if you got inside a spaceship-like vehicle and got shrunk down to the size of a gnat and got injected inside a person’s body.

I’ll tell you what it’s like: awful. You’re looking at a screen showing an extremely vivid animated simulation of the human interior, which is not the most appealing way to look at a human unless you’re attracted to white blood cells the size of motor homes. Meanwhile the entire compartment is bouncing you around violently, especially when you go through the aorta. “Never go through the aorta after eating German food,” that is my new travel motto.

What gets me is, I waited in line for an hour to do this. I could have experienced essentially the same level of enjoyment merely by sticking my finger down my throat.

Which brings me to my idea for getting rich. No doubt you have noted that, in most amusement parks, the popularity of a ride is directly proportional to how horrible it is. There’s hardly ever a line for nice, relaxing rides like the merry-go-round. But there will always be a huge crowd, mainly consisting of teenagers, waiting to go on a ride with a name like “The Dicer,” where they strap people into what is essentially a giant food processor and turn it on and then phone the paramedics.

So my idea is to open up a theme park called “Dave World,” which will have a ride called “The Fall of Death.” This will basically be a 250-foot tower. The way it will work is, you climb to the top, a trapdoor opens up, and you splat onto the asphalt below like a bushel of late-summer tomatoes.

Obviously, for legal reasons, I couldn’t let anybody actually go on this ride. There would be a big sign that said:

WARNING:

NOBODY CAN GO ON THIS RIDE.

THIS RIDE IS INVARIABLY FATAL,

THANK YOU.

But this would only make The Fall of Death more popular. Every teenager in the immediate state would come to Dave World just to stand in line for it.

Dave World would also have an attraction called “Parent Land,” which would have a sign outside that said: “Sorry, Kids! This Attraction Is for Mom ‘n’ Dad Only!” Inside would be a bar. For younger children, there would be “Soil Fantasy,” a themed play area consisting of dirt or, as a special “rainy-day” bonus, mud.

I frankly can’t see how Dave World could fail to become a huge financial success that would make me rich and enable me to spend the rest of my days traveling the world with my family. So the hell with it.

Seeing Other Attractions in the Disney World Area

You must be very careful here. You must sneak out of Disney World in the dead of night, because the Disney people do not want you leaving the compound and spending money elsewhere. If they discover that you’re gone, cheerful uniformed employees led by Mickey Mouse’s lovable dog Pluto, who will sniff the ground in a comical manner, will track you down. And when they catch you, it’s into the Goofy suit.

So we’re talking about a major risk, but it’s worth it for some of the attractions around Disney World. The two best ones, as it happens, are right next to each other near a town called Kissimmee. One of them is the world headquarters of the Tupperware company, where you can take a guided tour that includes a Historic Food Containers Museum. I am not making this up.

I am also not making up Gatorland, which is next door. After entering Gatorland through a giant pair of pretend alligator jaws, you find yourself on walkways over a series of murky pools in which are floating a large number of alligators that appear to be recovering from severe hangovers, in the sense that they hardly ever move. You can purchase fish to feed them, but the typical Gatorland alligator will ignore a fish even if it lands directly on its head. Sometimes you’ll see an alligator, looking bored, wearing three or four rotting, fly-encrusted fish, like some kind of High Swamp Fashion headgear.

This is very entertaining, of course, but the real action at Gatorland, the event that brings even the alligators to life, is the Assault on the Dead Chickens, which is technically known as the Gator Jumparoo. I am also not making this up. The way it works is, a large crowd of tourists gathers around a central pool, over which, suspended from wires, are a number of plucked headless chicken carcasses. As the crowd, encouraged by the Gatorland announcer, cheers wildly, the alligators lunge out of the water and rip the chicken carcasses down with their jaws. Once you’ve witnessed this impressive event, you will never again wonder how America got to be the country that it is today.

And speaking of America, let’s talk about taking the children to one of this nation’s many fine:

Educational Historic Sites

Forget it. Your modern child is not interested in educational historic sites. Your modern child has grown up with MTV and Nintendo; he or she is not going to be enthralled by watching people in authentic uncomfortable colonial outfits demonstrate how families in 1750 used to make candles by spinning flax with a churn, or whatever the hell they did. So you should avoid this kind of activity. Also you should avoid stopping at those Historical Markers on the side of the highway that you can never read when you’re driving past because the letters are too small. Here’s what they say:

HISTORIC MARKER

This Historic Marker was erected on this site in the Year of Our Lord 1923 during the administration of Governor Rayford R. “Scooter” Grommet, Jr., to commemorate with great sadness the numerous innocent civilians who are almost definitely going to get hit by traffic when they stop their cars and get out and try to read these really tiny letters.

Traveling With Teenagers

Traveling with teenagers is somewhat more difficult than traveling with members of the actual human race. It’s very important for you to be sensitive to the fact that, during this difficult transition from child to adult, your teenagers are undergoing intense emotional stresses that cause them, for solid psychological reasons, to regard you as the biggest geek ever to roam the planet. This is because a teenager’s life is an extremely intense, impossibly complex drama, and you cannot possibly understand the plot. All you can do is blunder around like some kind of nearsighted elephant, making a mess of everything, including the seemingly simple act of asking a passing waitress for ketchup.

YOu: Waitress, could we please have some ketchup?

YOUR TEENAGED DAUGHTER: Oh FATHER! How COULD you?? (Crying, she rushes from the restaurant.) YOU: What did I do? What did I do?

YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER (in the tone Of voice you might use to address an ax murderer): What did you DO? Do you realize who you just asked for ketchup? YOU: A waitress?

YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER: That was Jennifer Wienerbunker! The captain of the cheer-leading squad! You asked her for ketchup. You (raising your voice slightly): But she’s a waitress.

YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER: Oh FATHER! (Crying, she rushes from the restaurant.)

Also, teenagers are bored. By everything. Show a teenager an actual volcanic eruption, in progress, featuring giant billowing clouds of smoke, hot rocks raining from the sky, lava flows destroying entire villages, etc., and the teenager, eyebrows arched with sarcasm, will look at you and say, “Gee, this is swell,” then return to the rental car, turn on his portable CD player, and listen to a band called Stomach Contents.

So as a parent, you may feel that your wisest course is to postpone your family traveling until your teenage child has reached a more reasonable age, such as forty-eight. If this is not possible, you’ll want to follow the:

Two Major Rules for Traveling with Teenagers

1. Always Remain Outside of the Embarrassment Zone. If you get too close to your teenager in public, your teenager will become concerned that other teenagers might think that your teenager was somehow connected with you, which of course would be hideously embarrassing. So while traveling you must always maintain the Minimum Acceptable Public Distance.

2. Find Activities That Are Interesting to Teenagers. If the teenager is bored with an activity that you have planned, simply select an activity that he or she might find more interesting. Here is a handy chart to help you do this:

Activity that would be boring for teenager

Alternative activity that might be more interesting for teenager

Visiting the Louvre Museum

Leaving the Louvre Museum

Seeing the Crown Jewels

Not Seeing the Crown Jewels

Touring India by Elephant

Anyplace but India Definitely Not on an Elephant.