I’ve never been a big spender. I don’t have a shoe obsession or a ridiculously large collection of purses. I don’t go out to dinner and besides filling my gas tank and restocking art supplies, I don’t spend much outside my apartment. At most, I enjoy going to see a movie whenever I have a friend in town, which usually occurs once every month. However, while I hardly spend at all on material possessions, I still manage to use the money that would have bought me 20 different handbags.
The money that would have gone toward new clothes, books, CD’s, DVD’s, and other pleasures, instead goes toward traveling. If you add up every item an average person bought during the course of a month, you’d be shocked to find that they could have bought a round trip ticket to Orlando, Florida for the same amount, or even less.
Flying to new places is a passion of mine. Soon, I will have to invest in a frequent flyer’s card. Because I’ve started thinking about it daily. Where can I go next? What would I like to see? Oh, the possibilities! The people I’d meet! The pictures I’d take! The stories I could write!
I realize it’s expensive. I realize it’s the worst hobby I could ever participate in. I know how much it sounds like financial suicide! I know, I know, I know!
But in truth, I just don’t care! People think I’m crazy for wanting to go somewhere I’ve never been before where I technically don’t know anyone, but I think they are the crazy ones for not wanting the same thing! We only live once! What is up with this unneccessary fear of dying simply because you don’t know where you are? I could die tomorrow while driving to the grocery store! People are dangerous and threatening and scary in every part of the world, so why have any more reservations about one place over the other? I’m not stupid, I’m not naive, and it’s not like I’m going to sleep in a dark alley somewhere! I can stay three nights in a local Holiday Inn for a whopping $60 and I’d be completely safe!
It hurts me when I am criticized for something I love so much. My life is my own. I’m not addicted to drugs or sex or alcohol. I’m addicted to travel. Travel. I’m addicted to the wonderful people that are out there, just waiting to tell me their stoires. Just because I’m not afraid to go somewhere extravagent doesn’t make it right for someone to judge me for something they’re too scare to do.
I mean, honestly… Where’s the harm in somewhere new?