At 24 years of age and as one of the 27 remaining men in Australia without a sleeve tattoo, I’ve decided to run away and spend an indefinite amount of time in Canada and the USA.
It’s not a smart decision. It’s not a logical one. It’s selfish. It’s immature.
With the money I’ve saved, I could put a deposit on a house, invest money in a horrible company or buy some magical beans.
In 20 years time, 45 year old me is going to read this blog, shake his head and go back to bed with his supermodel wife in a really shitty mood.
If you’ve ever travelled, you may understand my stupidity.
You can always tell when someone has been on a great holiday. When they try and recall their trip, they can’t finish full sentences without doing one of three things.
1) Pausing and looking into the distance longingly
2) Break out into tears or random bouts of laughter
3) Talk way too quickly for human comprehension
When I last travelled overseas two years ago, I told friends and family that it would be my ‘last adventure’ before I grew up, read the business section of a newspaper and got angry at kids walking on my front lawn.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
In the winter of 2009 I saved up all my pennies, borrowed many more pennies and jetted off to Europe for two amazing months with two great friends.
Every night was memorable. Every moment felt better than the last.
Sights and sounds live forever in your memory. Experiences last a life time.
You push your body to another level because the only alternative is to miss out on the best time of your life.
It's beautiful because it has to end. It's legendary because your only option is to make it legendary.
The thing you miss the most is the people. Strangers who you share your most amazing moments with. Instant friends who leave a lasting impression in the brief time you spend with them.
I did things I didn't know I was capable of. I reached a level of fun I didn't know existed. There was never a regret, never a hesitation. It was everything I hoped it would be.
While I was over there I met this one guy, his name was Holiday Dom.
Holiday Dom didn’t have deadlines, nor responsibilities. His liver was in pretty bad shape and his fitness was fast-approaching John Goodman-type levels — but damn that guy was having fun. He was happy.
I wanted to bring him home, but he would have nothing of it. He was happier behind the waterfall in Switzerland, playing beer pong during a Prague pub crawl and sitting under the Eifel Tower in Paris.
Disappointed that I had to leave, Holiday Dom made me promise that I'd visit him again. So that's exactly what I'm going to do.
People talk about 'catching the travel bug'. Well, I'm here to tell you there is no such thing as a travel bug. Don't get me wrong, if you're not careful, you may catch a bug or two, but I know now why people feel the need to travel again when they come back home.
They travel to see their holiday friend again - the one who’s free from burden. Life seems better when you're with them.
So, if you're sitting back now, wondering if you should take the gamble and travel overseas this winter, go, go now! Don’t look back.
And when you meet that friend, tell them Dom said hi.
