Tag Archives: travel

Did You Know You Can Throw Up Through Your Nose?

Portrait of young man drunk or sick vomiting outdoors

The answer is yes, you can!

On my first night in Rhode Island, the magazine sent me out to this super fancy restaurant where, I’m not kidding, for 3 of us, the bill was over $1,000. I was like, I’m in Rhode Island, and New England is all about seafood and such, so I may as well try oysters on the half-shell. There are oyster bars all over Rhode Island. It seemed like a cultural rite of passage.

So, this was also a 7 course meal… Ya, it was nuts.

And after getting home I was like… Wow, I’m full. Really really full, like, my tummy is bloated beyond belief full…

And as I laid in bed and was like… Something is wrong.  I started getting chills. I could feel my mouth getting really clammy (forgive the pun)

I was feeling a bit like this:

vomit

Suddenly, I knew it was coming. I had passed the point of no return.

I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts out. AND it even came out of my nose! I was so sick. And I couldn’t stop throwing up. And again and again it kept coming up even through my nose! It was the grossest moment of my life. I felt horrible.

throw up 1

However, I was there for work. I had a job to do. I had many more restaurants to visit and things to do. So, after puking my guts out all night, I brushed my teeth, took a shower, and headed out for breakfast!

The life of a traveler. 

I will say, after that awful night, I ended up having an amazing time in Rhode Island, and highly recommend it! (just avoid the oysters!)

~ The Dark Horse

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I’m Off On Another Adventure

rhode island

So my next trip is Rhode Island, and I’m leaving… tomorrow. 

And I’m so insanely unprepared. I have never been to Rhode island, nor do I know what people do there. I hope it’s fun? I hope it won’t be lonely.

But, you know, this is the life. I’ve always wanted to be a real traveler. I’ve always wanted to get paid to travel – and now I have it. And yes, there can be times when you’re sent to seemingly random places and have no idea why – but that’s all part of the job.


I think I’m still missing home. This summer was rough. I didn’t know if my internship would turn into a job, and then I lost my apartment and had to move last minute. It was a lot. And all I wanted to do the entire summer was be to home. To be safe. 

And I feel I haven’t fully recovered from that yet. It feels like there’s part of me that wishes I could go back and re-do the entire summer. I’d do things differently….

rhode island 1

But I need to look on the bright side. I made it through. It was rough, but I have a job and I have an apartment. I survived it. Somehow. Someway. I did.

Well, Rhode Island…. I guess, here I come! 

I’m Living In Brooklyn Now!

brooklyn

So, this is a follow up to my last post, which chronicled the completely insane week of July 31 to August 7.

I’m happy to say, I survived. And I’m now living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn… and I don’t hate it. That’s right! I don’t miss the Upper West Side at all, because Brooklyn is

so.

damn.

cool.

Yep… totally happy. Wow, I love all these obnoxious cafes, and ugly fucking hipsters who have too much money and no jobs! HOW COULD I POSSIBLY HATE A FUCKING PLACE LIKE THIS? 

In Williamsburg, people are still wearing fedoras. MOTHERFUCKING FEDORAS! 

brooklyn1

This photo should tell you everything you need to know. I want to punch that girl in the face.

I went to Whole Foods yesterday and they have an oat milk vending machine…. Humans of planet earth… please, let me repeat :

OAT MILK VENDING MACHINE.

oat milk

If there actually was a God, he would obliterate this fucking hellhole into oblivion.

Right now, Im at a cafe and there is a guy next to me with glasses, pierced ears, shaved head in the back, spiky hair up front, in a gross tank top, with tattoos, wearing a fanny pack cross his shoulder, black jeans rolled up to his knees, with white tube socks, and Adidas sneakers that looks like they’re from the 80’s (AKA: He bought them for $100 from one of the many insanely expensive “thrift” shops in Williamsburg. He’s drinking an ice coffee that he ordered with, of course, oat milk.

Remember when hipsters loved soy milk? Then they hated it. And then it was almond milk, but that too wasn’t the miracle cure they had been hoping for. Then, there was that brief fad of “raw milk”. But now, it’s oat milk. Williamsburg smells of the greasy farts of too many hipsters who consume nothing but oats.

OH MY FUCKING GOD. I’m not making this up. Now a group of 3 hipsters just walked in to order and this was their conversation:

hipster 1: Yo, dude, we need to get a shot of you on the train. It will be, like, great for the vlog.

hipster 2: Man, this is going to be such a great collaboration. I’m so happy that we connected.

hipster 1: Yeah man, we’ll call the video something like, Freestyle in Manhattan, or like, Brooklyn, or whatever.

Hipster 3 remains silent. Probably knowing deep down how completely meaningless his life is.

hipster

But like I said, I’m not upset. It’s a great neighborhood. Everyone here is totally cool. Like, the coolest. They’re so trendy, self-obsessed, and glued to their social media that they’re honestly the best people in the world.

How could you not like this neighborhood?

PRIDE. (Or, Misery, Loneliness, and Dread.)

pride

So, I just got back from my trip to London, and I’m very disappointed to say, it was horrible. And making everything even worse is that now I’m back in New York City and WorldPride is going on, so gays are everywhere.

…Having just read what I wrote above, I think I need to clear something up – I am gay. Not a homophobe.

Let me explain where the problems are coming from,

So, I was in London on a press trip for Pride. It was me and two other reporters from the US. Then, the big part of the trip was the flight back to New York City for pride. On the flight, the 3 of us US reporters were seated amongst 30 gay UK reporters.

The 30 UK reporters all knew each-other. The gay media scene in the UK isn’t that large since the country isn’t that large. So, all the UK guys were sassily cliqued up with who they knew, and didn’t take the time to introduce themselves to any of us.

NYC Gay Pride March 2018

To make it even worse, to celebrate Pride, the plane started playing “gay music” to celebrate. Britney, Madonna, Cher, Ariana – all singers that I really don’t give a shit about. In only a few minutes, the plane stopped functioning like a normal flight. Everyone had gotten up in the aisles to dance, mingle with their friends, and drink.

It was the stereotypical bitchy sass-fest you’d imagine with a group of gay men. The UK reporters loudly gossiped about the bad parties they had gone to, the lame gays they knew who obviously weren’t as cool as them, and bragged about the trips they had gone on (which…HELLO! We were all reporters who had gone places! Who the fuck are you bragging to exactly?)

One of the US reporters found a UK reporter he knew, and gleefully jumped up and ran over to his group to join in on the “fun.” And throughout the entire 8-hour flight – a flight that was supposed to be celebrating pride, equality, and the LGBTQ siblinghood – How many of those reporters do you think ever took the time to introduce themselves to me, or ask who I was… The answer is zero. 

pride3

And that’s the problem with PRIDE in general.  PRIDE has nothing to do with Pride. PRIDE has nothing to do with friendship. PRIDE has nothing to do with equality.

PRIDE is a status symbol. Gays wearing a rainbow shirt is like a straight guy wearing a Patriots jersey. It’s social signaling, saying “I’m on the team.” Attending PRIDE parties is like attending a football game, it’s for fun. Nothing more. There is no moral high ground to PRIDE.

It’s a bunch of people dressing up and partaking in the gay societal norms, snapcahtting, instagramming, and tweeting all along the way…for one reason alone. To say, “I WAS HERE. I DID THIS. I’M COOL. I’M TRENDY. I’M PART OF THIS.” 

New York City Gay Pride Parade 2015

When we landed, they put all the reporters in a bus and took us into Manhattan. In the bus, everyone howled and raved about the flight…

“Did you see….OMG they were so smashed, I was like, Gurl!”

“OMG! It was so nuts. I literally can’t believe it!”

“And OMG…. was like, hogging so much aisle space when he was dancing, I was like, honey, this a cramped space, you need to be more aware, like OMG, right?”

And so on…

All the reporters who had gotten sloppy drunk, were now thrilled to have something new to talk about. AND OF COURSE, when retelling the stories of the sloppiest people, they never included themselves. It was always someone else who was the sloppiest. Someone else who didn’t partake the way they should have, someone else who just didn’t get “how it goes.”

I felt like I was back in high school. I couldn’t believe grown adults were acting like children.

pride5

The band PWR BTTM has a song that says, “When you are queer, you are always 19…” And I think that’s true. It seems like the gays are always so immensely immature. Like they’re always trying to be the popular girl they never got to be when they were young. All that hiding and lying they had to do in their youth explodes when they finally come out as adults, and then, they live forever, trying to be the Regina George they couldn’t be when they had the chance.

I was supposed to cover WorldPride with that group of reporters. In fact, we got put up in a very fancy hotel. And were given swag bags that had some very valuable things inside (like gift cards loaded with $100).

But I just couldn’t handle it. 

LA Pride Parade 2018 (Photo by Chris Tuite)

If any of you have read this blog before, you know that growing up, I was treated like shit. And to spend a weekend surrounded by people like this… people who would gleefully throw someone under the bus if they knew it would give them publicity… I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I was on the verge of crying when I walked into the hotel room. It was gorgeous, on the 16th floor, in downtown Manhattan. The entire room was just stunning, with a bathroom anyone would kill to take even one shower in. I looked through my swag bag… and saw all the expensive things inside. I felt horrible for giving all of this up. The amount of money that must have spent on it made me feel sick, for being privileged enough to just leave it all there.

But then I thought about having to stay there the whole weekend. Stay there with those people. Stay there listening to non-stop gossip about people I didn’t even know. Nonstop social media obsession, snapping pictures of every moment to be seen by their adoring “fans” online. Could I really do it?

The answer was no. When everyone went up to their rooms, I quietly checked out and left.

pride8

And now, here I am. Alone.

This was going to be my first PIRDE. But instead, I’m going hide from it. It’s hard knowing that everyone can find such pleasure and happiness in things that don’t mean anything to me. And it’s even worse that since I’m gay, everyone thinks I’m SUPPOSED to love this.   Everyone talks to me like this is the fucking super bowl for gay people, and want to know how excited I am.

But I’m not. In fact, I hate it. I hate that everyone gets to have fun except me. I hate that once again I’m on the sidelines. I hate that my personality has once again not clicked with yet another group of people. I hate that when you’re gay, society tries to box you in, forcing you to only assimilate with other LGBTQ people. Because I don’t feel that they are my people.

At no point during that flight did i ever feel represented. At no point did I ever feel welcomed. At no point did I ever feel included. Or even wanted. The reality is that gay people are just like straight people – We’re diverse. There is no one lifestyle that we like. So, to assume that all gays want to wear rainbows, listen to Madonna, and get smashed as they gossip like 1950’s housewives is bullshit. And what’s even shittier is that the gays willingly jump into this lifestyle like there’s no other way to live.

 

So, from me to the world, I kindly say, fuck all of you.

~ The Dark Horse

London Bound (Or, The Excitement of Something Big Ahead)

london

So, in 2 days I’m being flown to London for my next trip as a travel writer. I’m so excited and curious about this diverse and sprawling metropolis. London rivals New York City on the global cities index, being the only two Alpha ++ cities on the planet. A mixture of international traffic, economic fervor, and arts & culture keep these cities on top of the world.

But London will be different than New York…

New York streets look like this:

new york 1

 

Whereas London looks like this:

london12

 

Two cities, built very differently. One built up, the other built out.

 

BUT ASIDE FROM ALL THAT…

The main reason for this post is the feeling I have right now. I fully believe that travel has an incredible healing power. Travel can reset your mind, restart your body, and reenergize what’s been lost.

Isn’t it Elsa herself who says, “It’s funny how some distance, makes every thing seem small…” 

Travel is the ultimate cure for whatever ails you… although, perhaps it’s always advisable to see a doctor if something is seriously wrong.

takeoff

 

But does anything compare to the takeoff of an airplane?  Or the anticipation before a trip?

Even if there’s no ocean where I’m going to, before I travel I can always seem to smell the saltwater. Sun seems to radiate from somewhere. Everything shimmers with starbursts and sunbeams. I absolutely love the feeling I get before a trip!

It’s a depression smashing, anxiety exploding, shot of pure positivity.

 

Also… as is tradition on this blog, if there’s ever a city that gets destroyed in a movie, I have to show it.

londonlondon2

 

Does that not inspire you to hop on a plane?????

Come on people, Adventure awaits! 

 

~ The Dark Horse

Never give up, and never proofread! Unless you’re getting paid…. then proofread, proofread, proofread!)

Visiting Home After Being Gone a While

ohio

So, I’m back in Ohio right now visiting home, and it’s been very pleasant. The memories of how people treated me here are finally fading away as I get older, and I have to admit…I think that now that I finally feel successful…whatever anyone here thinks of me no longer matters.

For example- If someone here wants to hate me for being gay, well… I get paid to travel the world and write stories about it… Tell me Mr. white trash Ohioan, what do you do? Now that I’m happy and now that I feel worthwhile, ignorant trash suddenly seems like nothing more than, well, ignorant trash.

 

Dolly Parton has a song called Home (a very good song in fact)

 

And so much of it makes sense now. There really is no place like home. For better or for worse, there is only town where you grow up (unless you move). But for most of us, there’s only one town where you experience grade school and high school, and all the crap that comes along with it. And whether your experience sucked like mine, or was great like the some prom queen, it leaves a mark inside of you that shapes who you are.

There’s always something powerful about coming back. For me, it’s two-fold. Part of it makes me remember why I ran so far away. This town just isn’t me. It never was. I always wanted the world, I wanted to devote my life to a passion. And that just isn’t how most Ohioans feel. But at the same time, I also appreciate the things here that I can’t have in Manhattan. I love all the tree-lined streets, the quiet nights, the fireflies, the large nearby parks with wandering riverbeds and deers and foxes and squirrels and frogs. I love nature. And that love of nature is a big part of what spurred my love of travel. Coming home is always nice because it refuels my natural side. The side I lose in New York.

In a few weeks I take my next trip for work. I’m off to London!

london

 

I’m very excited! But London is big and sprawling and crowded. It’s the opposite of my hometown (and that will partly make me love it) But, it’s also encouraging me to suck up as much Ohio as I can right now.

I’m going to walk the family dog, ride my bike, sleep with my windows open, and embrace everything Ohio is. Everything I left behind.  Everything I hate. And Everything I still love.

 

~ The Dark Horse

(This was… 60% proofread?)