My Hour as Indiana Jones
I was sitting at home, eating a salami sandwich and minding my own business, when an Indiana Jones rerun possessed my TV and spat out clichéd adventure in droves. In spite of a plot that resembled a tuna fishing net, I watched the entire film until its heart-wrenching climax.
As the credits rolled on, I began to muse on the importance of Indiana Jones to traveling destinations. I quickly decided that every city, island, state and rock in the ocean needed an Indiana to protect it from the psychos, who believe that it is sanitary to tear out organs without surgical gloves. I then perused the web in search of the online equivalent of Indiana Jones. I imagined finding a haggard blogger dedicated to truth and khakis, but my frantic clicking could not find a single person who brought these ingredients together in a day-saving package.
It was then–in a moment of cringe-worthy arrogance–that I took it upon myself to be the travel blogging Indiana Jones. Driven by the belief that the modern man could look good in colonial garb, I grabbed my fedora, snapped a few head shots and registered my WordPress blog–titled Indiana Jones and the Doomed Traveler.
I set out an elaborate plan to expose the insidious trickery of immigration officials, corrupt cops and thieving children. My blog would become the traveler’s survival handbook and it would save scores of people from taxi kidnappings, armed madmen and dodgy chicken from street vendors – it was foolproof.
Later that day, I walked outside to breathe in the fresh air of heroic accomplishment. As I walked onto the street, I felt a quick tug on my earlobe and watched as a child on a bicycle drove into the sunset with my iPod…
I stood, inanimate, and realized that I was no Indiana Jones. I was simply a traveler, who often saw things go wrong.
