How to Shed Pounds Quickly Without Really Trying

How to Shed Pounds Quickly Without Really Trying

If you want to look wafer-thin and svelte, with the sunken cheeks and flat stomach that aspiring young Hollywood starlets long for, then have I got a weight loss plan for you….

If you want to look wafer-thin and svelte, with the sunken cheeks and flat stomach that aspiring young Hollywood starlets long for, then have I got a weight loss plan for you….

As an expert on most things, I find people are constantly approaching me asking all sorts of questions like, “Why is it that cats always land on their feet?” and “Which is better, cake or pie?” [Answer: Cake], and “Why are you following me?” (I get that last one all of the time.)

Another question people are always asking me is how they can lose weight. Constantly trying to slim down has become an American obsession. But I recently stumbled onto an amazing weight loss solution that sheds the weight not in weeks or months but HOURS! Incredibly, it doesn’t require rigorous exercise, draconian starvation diets, weight loss supplements, or even Ozempic. If you want to have the sunken cheeks of a Parisian runway model, just do what I did. Within days, people will be staring at you in envy, quietly wondering, “How did he lose all that weight?” and “Is he dead?”

My new weight loss plan worked with shocking results. Here’s the secret: My wife and I booked a 25-day vacation, starting with a week touring London on our own, then flying to Istanbul to join an organized tour of Turkey and Greece, including nine days of island hopping through several Greek Isles in the Aegean Sea. Fabulous, I know. We arrived in London, jet lagged, but otherwise fine. The following morning, we had a typical London breakfast of badly prepared eggs, bacon, and toast. But I decided to go one step further, by ordering a fresh fruit salad, which my wife opted to skip.

Fast forward four hours – cue food poisoning and the worst diarrhea of my life. Over the next three days, I must have lost every ounce of bodily fluid inside me that was not technically blood. Not to be too graphic, but  let’s just say that my oral and posterior cavities competed aggressively in a race to empty all of my bodily fluids in a gushing exodus from my body.

To suggest that I was experiencing the human anatomy’s impersonation of Niagara Falls would be a ridiculous comparison. Because it was way worse than that. A more accurate description would be the eruption of Krakatoa (or for you millennials who’ve never heard of the historic Krakatoa eruption of August 26, 1883, feel free to substitute Mount St. Helens’ blast. And read up on your history, please!)

I could not leave my hotel room for days. I estimate I used approximately 18% of the city of London’s entire toilet paper inventory. I was so weak I fainted and collapsed on the floor attempting to reach the bathroom in the middle of the night, only to be awakened by my wife hysterically screaming, “Tim, you fell on the floor!!!” (True.)

Ah, the jaw-dropping sights of Istanbul, Turkey. The historic Hagia Sophia church / mosque, built in 532 AD, the world-famous Basilica Cistern, built during the 6th century by Byzantine Emperor Justinian I, and the chaotic traffic of riverboats along the stunning Bosporus Strait, were just a few of the many unbelievable sights… I missed out on seeing.

Ah, the jaw-dropping sights of Istanbul, Turkey. The historic Hagia Sophia church / mosque, built in 532 AD, the world-famous Basilica Cistern, built during the 6th century by Byzantine Emperor Justinian I, and the chaotic traffic of riverboats along the stunning Bosporus Strait, were just a few of the many unbelievable sights… I missed out on seeing.

After three days of not being able to stand the sight of food, lest it trigger another case of projectile vomiting, I slowly regained my strength. By the time we flew to Istanbul to join our Turkey / Greek Isles tour group, I was feeling almost back to normal. But then on the very first day of our tour, as we walked among the ancient ramparts of Istanbul, it suddenly struck me again. DOWN GOES FRAZIER! DOWN GOES FRAZIER! I started feeling dizzy, nauseous, and in desperate need of finding a bathroom. Perhaps this is a good time to point out that in Istanbul, most of the public toilets are squat toilets. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, kids, seriously, you need to pay more attention in social studies class.

By 3pm on our very first day of the tour, I told our trip leader I’d need to skip the Welcome Dinner that evening. By 6pm, I was pretty sure I’d have to miss out on the Istanbul walking tour the following day. By 9pm, I was in the Emergency Room of a local hospital. Three hours later, having had my body pumped full of IV fluids, I was taxied back to our hotel. Six hours later, the following morning, after fainting en route to the bathroom for a second time in less than a week, Michele had to get a wheelchair to take me to the lobby and back to the ER.

On this second visit, doctors were now worried about the possibility of a stroke due to my severe dehydration and / or a risk of sepsis due to the aggressive intestinal infection that by now had spread to my bloodstream and my urine. Not good, I know.

Four hours later, after filling me with more IV fluids and antibiotics, they discharged me again. Ultimately, we had to bail on the rest of our bucket list tour and fly home, experiencing literally only five hours of what was supposed to be a 16-day tour. It turns out that In the space of less than a week, I had lost 11 pounds. If I had ever desired that “heroin chic” look of a 90’s fashion model, I totally nailed it.

On the bright side, I received an insane number of caring, concerned Facebook comments from close to 200 people, some of whom I had not seen nor heard from in years. Of course, there was no shortage of people trying to help me laugh at my situation, with actual comments like…

A selfie photo I took in the Istanbul Hospital’s ER while I waited to be treated. I have to say, my wife was a saint, making sure I received all the critical medical care I needed. I was very, very lucky she was there to advocate for me, because my brain was in a total fog (yes, even more than usual) for much of this.

A selfie photo I took in the Istanbul Hospital’s ER while I waited to be treated. I have to say, my wife was a saint, making sure I received all the critical medical care I needed. I was very, very lucky she was there to advocate for me, because my brain was in a total fog (yes, even more than usual) for much of this.

“Hang in there, Tim. This too shall pass. ;  ) “

“Sorry about being stuck in a Turkish Hospital. Look on the bright side, Tim. At least it wasn’t a Turkish prison.”

“Tim, I need to lose ten pounds in time for my wedding next month. Can you text me the fruit salad recipe that caused you to get sick?”

“Hey, buddy, if you don’t pull through, can I have your golf clubs?”

Things like that. What can I say, human suffering sometimes brings out the best in people.

I’m pleased to report that I am back at home and on the mend. I am regaining strength by the day. But please don’t tell my wife. I plan to use this recent health scare to get out of housework for at least the next six weeks.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

Man sitting in stadium, smiling with glove.PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook. 

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An American Tourist’s Guide to Africa

An American Tourist’s Guide to Africa


A cartoon illustration of a bright yellow sun with a smiling face and large, round eyes.

This is my wife taking a photo of an approaching elephant. I have to say, I was more than a bit disappointed when our guide said that I wasn’t permitted to exit the vehicle and ride the elephant. Naturally, I filed a complaint with the tour company demanding a full refund.

I have traveled all over the world, to Europe, China, and even to Canada. So, I think I know a thing or two about how to get around in foreign cultures – with the exception of Canada. Those Canucks are a total mystery to me.

Here’s a useful tip: When traveling to a foreign country, it is not necessary to be able to speak the local language. Say you’re in Paris. And the only phrase you know is “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” – a phrase that is not very helpful unless you are trying to seduce your waitress at the cafe. No worries. Just speak in English using a really lame French accent. They will quickly become annoyed with you and start replying in English, “What are you trying to ask, Mister?” Trust me, everybody speaks English these days – except teenagers, who apparently only use emojis to communicate.

I recently returned from a three-week safari tour of southern Africa. You know, one of those “glamping” adventures, where you stay in “tents” that are nicer than my house. Based on my experience, let me share with you a few insights to help you evaluate whether glamping in Africa is your cup of tea.

First of all, to my surprise, I learned that Africa is not a country. It is a continent. And a very large one at that. We visited four countries: Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana, and South Africa. The plan was to hop into Toyota Land Cruisers and drive through the wilderness in search of all sorts of exotic critters and birds. Oh sure, we saw plenty of lions (but not a single tiger or bear, oh my). We also came upon elephants up close, as well as hippos, giraffes, Cape buffalos, crocodiles, and other amazing critters in the wild. But I had my heart set on spotting a giant panda. Alas, during the entire three weeks, the only panda I saw was on a sign at a Panda Express fast food joint at the airport.

The areas I saw were mostly grasslands and woodlands, not the deep jungle. So, we did not see a single gorilla. Again, deeply disappointing. But we did see several baboons and monkeys – at a picnic area where our land cruisers made a stop at for lunch one day. One vervet monkey leapt out of a tree, jumped on the picnic table, knocked over a bottle of wine, and made off with one person’s sandwich. (True.) Monkeys can be so rude – almost as rude as American tourists.

I’ll admit it was kind of cool to see lions out in the wild. One time, a pride of seven of them came up to our land cruisers and lay down right next to the vehicles for shade. I was literally two feet from an adult male (see photo below). But I was more than a little disappointed when the tour guide informed me that it was not safe for me to pat the lion behind the ears – or on the belly for that matter – even though I saw Joe Exotic on the Netflix docuseries Tiger King do that all the time.

One thing that I found rather lame is that, unlike at zoos back home, none of the savanna areas we went had those informational plaques with fun facts about the various critters we saw. All you saw was the animal. I couldn’t even Google “fun facts about leopards” because we had no internet in the middle of nowhere. They really need to look into that.

And yeah, it was pretty amazing when we came upon a leopard that had killed an adult impala and carried it 25 feet up a tree – with only its jaws – so it could enjoy its kill without vultures or lions trying to muscle in on its dinner. Something I had never seen in my life. But I was hoping it would have killed a rhino or a hippo. That would have been way cooler. So, yeah, kind of a letdown.

A cartoon illustration of a bright yellow sun with a smiling face and large, round eyes.

No, this is not a doctored photo. The lions really got this close to us. I was about to offer up a slice of raw steak to coax one of the lions to jump in the jeep so I could pat him. I mean look how calm and relaxed they all appear. But our guide said no to that too. Some people are such Debbie Downers.

The lodges where we stayed all had tents. And not the kind of tent you might think of for a camping trip back home. These tents came with flush toilets, showers with warm water, ceiling fans, and electricity. But no flat screen TV’s in your room. Come on, guys! This is the 21st century. And they would not let you walk from your tent to the lodge after dark. They had to escort you with an armed guide, in case a lion or hippo might attack. In fact a lion had killed an antelope right outside of our tent the night before we arrived. (True.) That would never have happened had we stayed at the Marriott.

One of the high points of our trip was supposed to be our helicopter tour over Victoria Falls – probably the most popular tourist attraction in the entire African continent after the Pyramids. And seeing it from the air is something few people ever get to experience. Oh, sure the views were breathtaking. But unlike Niagara Falls, there was not a single Hard Rock Café or miniature golf course anywhere around. A missed marketing opportunity, if you ask me.

A cartoon illustration of a bright yellow sun with a smiling face and large, round eyes.

Fun fact: Despite what I had learned from playing the Hungry Hippos game as a child, hippos don’t actually eat marbles. They mainly subsist on grasses, aquatic plants, and the occasional annoying tourist.

I was also unimpressed by the food. For some reason, every lodge we stayed at kept offering us African food with unpronounceable names like Nshima and Ifinkubala and Vitumbuwa. Not one lodge served pizza, let alone donuts. And don’t even get me started about the fact that apparently Mountain Dew seems to be outlawed in Africa.

So, if your idea of a fun vacation is to explore totally different cultures, try exotic foods, see amazing wild animals in their natural habitat, and immerse yourself in a totally alien world, all the while camping in luxury, then, I guess Africa is okay.

Personally, I’d rather go to Disney World and spend the afternoon on their Jungle Cruise ride. There you can navigate you through some of the world’s most treacherous waters, steam past lush foliage and waterfalls, and glimpse lions, hippos and zebras up close. And then finish up your adventure with a pepperoni pizza and an ice cold Mountain Dew at the Pizzafari restaurant. Pretty much the same experience, and far less chance of being eaten by a hippo.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

A cartoon illustration of a bright yellow sun with a smiling face and large, round eyes.PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it aLikeorsharing this post on Facebook.

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My Lame Utah National Parks Vacation

My Lame Utah National Parks Vacation

These are the “Mighty Five” national parks of Utah. We recently visited all of them and hiked…. and hiked… and hiked… and hiked…. You get the picture. This is my expert review of these five highly over-rated parks.

These are the “Mighty Five” national parks of Utah. We recently visited all of them and hiked…. and hiked… and hiked… and hiked…. You get the picture. This is my expert review of these five highly over-rated parks.

I don’t want to sound negative, but my recent two-week vacation visiting all five of Utah’s national parks was, well, disappointing. I was utterly unimpressed. Utah contains five national parks that they call The Mighty Five: Arches, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon and Zion – or as I prefer to call them, The Forget ‘Em Five.

My wife and I went with two other very nice couples. They all seemed to have a great time. But I can only conclude that it’s because they never get out much. What sad, pathetic lives they must lead. I sure hope they’re not subscribers to this blog.

Here’s what we did: We hiked – I mean, EVERY SINGLE DAY – for hours at a time. Every day, out of the hotel by 7:30am to start trudging over rocks and in between trees, in search of well, rocks and trees.

Over the course of a three-hour hike, one gets a bit parched. And yet not a single one of the “Mighty Five” had a Starbucks – I know this for a fact, because I asked hikers coming from the other direction “How far to the Starbucks” and every one of them looked at me like I was deranged.

Here is my takeaway review of the five national parks:

Arches National Park: If you like reddish-brown rocks and a handful of crumbling arches, then you’ve come to the right place. But seriously, you might want to see a doctor first, because, what’s wrong with you? And the arches are not even that good – with several of them revealing large chunks where part of the arch has given way. And they don’t even let you jump on them or ride your scooter across them.

Canyonlands National Park: Lots more of those reddish-brown rocks, which my artiste wife was constantly correcting me by saying “they’re actually the color of burnt sienna.” Thanks, sweetie. This place also has no shortage of rather large crevices, which once again my wife constantly pointed out were more appropriately known as “canyons.” Whatever. Same difference.

If you like seeing a giant hole in the ground, then be sure to check out… The GRAND CANYON INSTEAD. Because, honestly, this place totally copies the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon that we know of today was formed roughly seventy million years ago – a full ten million years before the formation of Utah’s Canyonlands. So, they had TEN MILLION years to come up with something unique and different. But no, they just had to plagiarize another national park. Talk about mailing it in.

Capitol Reef National Park: If you’d like to visit a landscape that feels like the surface of Mars, but with Big Horn Sheep, this park might be to your liking. But if you ask me, don’t waste your time – unless you have a Big Horn Sheep fetish, in which case, I don’t want to know about it.

Thinking of going to Canyonland, Arches or Bryce? Save your money and go to Disney World instead. Take the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride (seen here). The scenery is the same, plus your train goes through a splash zone. A much better value.

Thinking of going to Canyonland, Arches or Bryce? Save your money and go to Disney World instead. Take the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride (seen here). The scenery is the same, plus your train goes through a splash zone. A much better value.

Oh sure, Capitol Ree’s environs look other-worldly, much like Mars. But I saw the Matt Damon movie, The Martian three times, so I think I know what the surface of Mars looks like. (It looks like Capitol Reef.) So, this park is just copying the look and feel of that movie. I hope Matt Damon sues you for millions.

Bryce Canyon National Park: This park is filled with a unique rock formation called “Hoodoos.” The hoodoos all had the same color: Orange. Bright flaming orange. Here’s an idea – why not try adding ANY OTHER COLOR BESIDES ORANGE? Perhaps a pinch of purple or mauve?

The rock formations reminded me of the Terra Cotta Army of Xi’an, China. Only the Xi’an exhibit has far more places to sit down and signs explaining what you’re looking at. My advice? Check out the China exhibit instead.

Zion National Park: This was the last of the five parks we saw. Like the other four, this place was another one-trick pony, with canyons, switchback trails, and crumbling rock formations. (Okay, so technically, that would make it a three-trick pony.)

The food selection at Zion, like most of the parks, was extremely limited. All it offered were Big Horn Sheep, Mule Deer, and chipmunks – which you have to kill and prepare yourself. And let me tell you, the chipmunks were disappointingly gamey.

There, I just saved you five thousand dollars in airfare, hotels, meals, and Smokey the Bear stuffed animals for your kids. No need to thank me.

In all of these parks, which range in altitude from 4,000 to 8,000 feet – the trails all have two things in common: First, they often are right at the edge of a daunting sheer cliff with a 2,000 footdrop-off straight down. And second, there are virtually no railings anywhere. Apparently the National Park Service has concluded that if someone’s enough of an idiot to take a selfie perched on the ledge of one of their precarious cliffs, they deserve what’s coming to them.

When the group wanted a break from hiking – which for me was after about 15 minutes – we took some side trips to investigate dinosaur tracks and pictographs. The dinosaur tracks turned out to be giant paw prints left from some 65 to 125 million years ago. If you looked really closely, you could almost make out ambiguous blobular impressions in the rock that looked nothing like dinosaur prints. What am I missing here? The high point of my dinosaur tracks exploration was when our rental car got stuck in the mud, and I had to push us out. So, yeah, I guess that’s a story I can embellish and tell my grandkids someday about how I save our car and its five passengers from sliding off a 2,000 foot cliff.

Pictographs are ancient paintings in the rock made between 1,000 and 2,000 years ago. Most of the ones we saw looked like space aliens or antelopes painted in reddish brown, I mean burnt sienna, on the sides of cliffs. If you ask me, these drawings are basically just primitive graffiti. Those ancients really had a good PR machine, I guess.

Zion has one cool trail called Angel’s Canyon, which is so treacherous that every year a couple of idiot hikers fall off the cliffside trail to their death. So, I have to give Zion style points for that. Pretty intense.

Zion has one cool trail called Angel’s Canyon, which is so treacherous that every year a couple of idiot hikers fall off the cliffside trail to their death. So, I have to give Zion style points for that. Pretty intense.

I don’t get the whole national parks allure. I guess if you’re into meandering through some of the most stunning scenery you’ll ever find on our planet, then sure, go ahead and check out Utah’s national parks. But it’s just not my sort of thing. That’s because there are no benches for resting, very few signs, and good luck finding an espresso bar – or even a snack machine – anywhere along the trail.

I’d have to say my favorite place we hiked during our tour of Utah’s national parks was our final night – when we reached Vegas. There Michele and I made one final trek – down the famous Vegas Strip to see the Bellagio’s towering fountains, as we listened to them roar to the sound of classical music. Ah, so mesmerizing – and not a canyon or ancient volcano to be seen. The volcano’s two doors down at the Mirage.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

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© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2021

Welcome to Orca Falls

Welcome to Orca Falls

Welcome to Orca Falls (formerly Stanwood), the happiest town in America. Come for our incredible natural beauty. And if you’re lucky, you just might catch a rare sighting of one of our orcas swimming up our waterfalls, as they do during mating season.

Welcome to Orca Falls (formerly Stanwood), the happiest town in America. Come for our incredible natural beauty. And if you’re lucky, you just might catch a rare sighting of one of our orcas swimming up our waterfalls, as they do during mating season.

I live on Camano Island in Washington state. There are no towns on the island and very few stores. To find a Starbucks, beauty salon, or tattoo parlor, you need to leave the island and head into Stanwood, the closest town. Like so many other small towns, Stanwood has been hit hard by the economic downturn caused by the COVID pandemic.

At the risk of offending the fine people of Stanwood, let’s face it. The town is not exactly a tourist mecca. It’s a hardscrabble, working-class community, whose stores are for the most part utilitarian and uninspiring. “Inviting” is not a word that comes to mind when you think of this place – unless you count Jimmy’s Pizza, which is always inviting – and full. When you think of a struggling small town like Stanwood, what comes to mind? Answer: Boring strip malls, a paucity of nice restaurants, and an unsettling number of “out of business” signs on boarded-up storefronts.

As my several million weekly readers will attest, I’m a humble man who is loath to boast about my impressive achievements. Heck, I never bring up my Nobel Prize unless you forget to ask. But it’s no secret I’m a nationally respected marketing / PR maven (because it says these words right on my business card). So, when Stanwood’s town council recently approached me for advice on how to turn around their flagging economy, I accepted my civic duty to save their town from disaster.

Now for some context. In the first half of the 20th century, there was a town called Leavenworth, nestled in the heart of Washington state’s Cascade Mountains. It was a thriving community with an economy based on logging. But by the 1950’s, the main railway had stopped serving Leavenworth, the logging industry collapsed, and the town came perilously close to bankruptcy. To avoid imminent financial ruin, the town reinvented itself into a Bavarian village, and all retail storefronts adopted a Bavarian theme.

Today it’s a bustling, highly sought-after tourist destination, annually drawing hundreds of thousands of visitors who apparently can’t tell the difference between an authentic Bavarian village and an IHOP restaurant dolled up with a lame Bavarian knock-off façade.

My point is this: What’s good for Leavenworth is great for Stanwood. When I think of the natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest, two things come to mind: breaching orca (“killer”) whales and craggy snow-capped mountains teeming with waterfalls. Admittedly, you might not think of these two things together, but just go with me, okay?

Ladies and gentlemen, WELCOME TO ORCA FALLS (formerly known as Stanwood). Doesn’t that sound charming? Of course it does. Forget about the Stanwood you thought you knew. It’s time to bring your family – and your credit card – to this heavenly, undiscovered Cascadian paradise we’ve rebranded to avoid foreclosure.

First-time visitors will receive $500 in ORCA BUCKS, which they can redeem at any participating store – sure to be a big hit! [Disclaimer: One Orca Buck = 1/100th of a penny.]

First-time visitors will receive $500 in ORCA BUCKS, which they can redeem at any participating store – sure to be a big hit! [Disclaimer: One Orca Buck = 1/100th of a penny.]

Are there really orca whales in Orca Falls? Technically no, but we’re working on it – just as soon as we can find a way to import 50 trillion tons of salt water – and a few dozen pods of orcas. And what about the towering waterfalls, you ask? Almost. We’re installing them as fast as we can. You’ll just have to visit to see for yourself.

As soon as the town council signs off on my modest $2.5 billion business development plan, before long, people will be flocking here like snow geese. Here are just a few of my brilliant plans for Orca Falls, which I am confident will win approval:

ORCA WORLD:  The largest – and only – amusement park for hundreds of miles, featuring the exhilarating Thunder Falls roller coaster ride and It’s a Small World. (I read that Disneyland is looking for a buyer for that ride). And we haven’t forgotten the kids. Make sure your youngsters get here early to beat the crowds waiting to ride on the backs of playful baby orcas – just be sure they jump off before the whale submerges. We’d hate to see them drown in such a magical setting.

For added fun, park visitors will enjoy imagining the sensation of being a salmon as they attempt to steer a rowboat upstream in the Ragin’ River Rapids ride. They will compete with other guests as they try to avoid being eaten by one of the park’s five adorably rambunctious grizzly bears. Don’t worry, our grizzlies are well-fed and wouldn’t hurt a soul – so long as you don’t make direct eye contact – or smell like salmon.

KILLER WHALE WAY: The town’s main street will be renamed and re-imagined with a fanciful whale theme. Store owners choose which whale image to carve into their storefront – orca, grey, humpback – or for a larger store, I’d go with a blue whale motif (it’s the largest animal on earth). Other storefront façade options include “Shipwrecked”, “Mutiny on the Bounty” and “Captain Crunch.”

Audiophiles will thrill to the soothing recorded sounds of whale clicks, whistles, and mating moans blasted at 150 decibels, sure to make you feel like you’re in the splash zone at Sea World (before they shut down the whale attraction on animal cruelty charges).

Visitors will thrill to the rides and shows at Orca World, where you will see our whales do things you never thought imaginable. [Park opening delayed indefinitely. Check back in summer 2031.]

Visitors will thrill to the rides and shows at Orca World, where you will see our whales do things you never thought imaginable. [Park opening delayed indefinitely. Check back in summer 2031.]

BUBBLES’ BATH: There’ll be no shortage of fun at Orca Falls’ giant public indoor – outdoor wave pool “where kids will have a WHALE of a time!” (I just made that up – that’s called marketing.) Visitors will delight to the hourly “Free Willy” playtime, as killer whales are let loose to mingle joyfully among the unsuspecting swimmers.

I’m confident my scheme will turn the town formerly known as Stanwood into a world class destination – right up there with Monte Carlo or Scranton, PA (another one of my success stories). But in the unlikely event the town council’s members aren’t quite the visionaries that I am, I have a fallback rebranding plan:

Welcome to Eagle Canyon. Come for the Eagles. Stay for our world-famous Eagle Pot Pie.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

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© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2021

Never Accept a Ride From a Stranger

Never Accept a Ride From a Stranger

When you were young, remember how your parents told you never to get in a car with a strange man? Well, this is the harrowing true story of the time a young, innocent couple accepted a ride from a strange man. And by strange man, I mean ME. A cautionary tale.

When you were young, remember how your parents told you never to get in a car with a strange man? Well, this is the harrowing true story of the time a young, innocent couple accepted a ride from a strange man. And by strange man, I mean ME. A cautionary tale.

They seemed like such a lovely young couple, deeply in love. They had their whole life ahead of them. They were on their honeymoon, without a care in the world. And then, they made a fateful decision that just might change their destiny forever. They did something incredibly reckless and impulsive, as young people are wont to do. They accepted a ride from a complete stranger. I saw the whole thing unfold because, well, um, that stranger was me.

Austin and Ali from Kansas City, KS, were vacationing in the British Virgin Islands (BVI). I now realize that they probably would not like if it I mentioned them by name, so henceforth, I will refer to Austin and Ali as Jeff and Beth from Lawrence, KS, to protect their anonymity. They were on a day trip to an idyllic tropical island called Jost Van Dyke and had taken a taxi ride to a remote beach, where they were frolicking in the ocean waves.

Unfortunately for this innocent couple, there was someone else lurking nearby: ME – and my wife, Michele. It turned out that we had similar plans for today, as we too were on vacation, and we had recently been on our own honeymoon 34 years prior. Like them, we’d heard that the most incredible beach in the entire BVI was on the opposite side of this extremely rugged, mountainous island. Austin and Ali, I mean Jeff and Beth, had just one small problem. They had no car. They would have to call a taxi driver and wait another 30 to 40 minutes to be picked up.

That’s when they made what could only be described as the worst lapse in judgment of their very young marriage, They accepted my offer to drive them to the other beach, The four of us piled into our cramped Suzuki hatchback rental car, whose main power source, I can only surmise, based on this experience, must have been four AA batteries – either that or a small rodent on a hamster wheel.

This is Ali and Austin, I mean Beth and Jeff, a lovely couple on their honeymoon. Don’t they look sweet? Well, within minutes of this photo, they’d be praying to God to let them survive the ordeal I would soon inflict on them.

This is Ali and Austin, I mean, Beth and Jeff, a lovely couple on their honeymoon. Don’t they look sweet? Well, within minutes of this photo, they’d be praying to God to let them survive the ordeal I would soon inflict on them.

I was the driver, Michele the navigator. A word about roads in BVI. Even the very best of them are bad, filled with potholes, way too narrow, no lane divider markers, and extremely twisty, with lots of blind hairpin turns. And you have to confront all these obstacles while mastering driving on the wrong side of the street. But today, there wasn’t a “best road” in sight. No, we unwittingly embarked on a fool’s errand to test my driving skills on the most grueling road I would ever attempt in my life.

Michele consulted Google Maps on her phone for the quickest way to get across the island to the other beach. Apparently, the app must have thought we were using a helicopter or a zeppelin because the route it selected took us right over the very top of the island. Or perhaps the BVI version of Google Maps was designed by Satan. Because this journey would take us to Hell and back.

I apparently missed the sign that said, “CAUTION: ONLY IDIOTS ARE PERMITTED TO TAKE THIS ROUTE” because within one minute, we had diverged from a paved surface and found ourselves re-directed onto a dirt and gravel path barely wide enough for one vehicle.

I recall distinctly asking Michele, “Are you sure we’re on the right road? This doesn’t look right,” to which she calmly replied, “Yes, I’m sure. Google says this is the most direct route.” And of course, by “direct route,” what Google apparently meant was the most direct route to ensure our imminent demise.

Very quickly, I realized we had made a horrible navigational error in choosing to go this way. If this route qualified to be considered “a road”, then having watched two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy qualified me to be “considered” a brain surgeon.

While this is not our vehicle or our road, this is a lot like the road we took, only safer.

While this is not our vehicle or our road, this is a lot like the road we took, only safer.

The trek became steeper and steeper, and narrower and narrower. The cliffs were easy to see because there were no pesky guard rails to block my view of the 1000-foot sheer drop-off. The further we drove, the rougher the terrain got. The boulders got bigger, the ruts deeper, and in many places we were attempting to scale an incline with a 45 degree angle or higher, sometimes transitioning to a switchback requiring us to make a sharp blind hairpin turn while accelerating up a steep uphill.

If there had been someone driving from the other direction, one of us would have had to make the very difficult choice to drive off the cliff, because there was no way we could pass each other on this narrow obstacle course. But I needn’t have worried about the possibility of someone coming at me from the other direction, because there was no way more than one idiot would try to cross this Highway to Hell.

As all our heads jostled up and down uncontrollably with every bump, like cheaply made bobblehead dolls, I wondered what Jeff and Beth must have been thinking: “Lord, we will go to church every Sunday for the rest of our lives if you’ll just deliver us from this nightmare” or maybe, “Why did you agree to get a ride from a complete stranger? Maybe he’s a serial killer. Or worse – a Suzuki used car salesman!” 

The further I drove, the worse conditions became, Then I noticed that the pitch of the thoroughfare sloped noticeably to the right, and I had to fight to keep the car from drifting rightward, towards the cliff. Going downhill wasn’t any easier. I kept pumping the brakes over and over, to keep this freight train from barreling off the cliff as I tried to negotiate one 160 degree hairpin turn after another. But I stoically kept my fears to myself, so as not to alarm our passengers – except for the four or five brief moments when I came upon yet another gut-wrenching hairpin turn and I blurted out, “HOLY SH*T, WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!”

I’ve been to Italy’s ancient star-crossed city of Pompeii. Two thousand years later, their roads still were in better condition than what I had to contend with. During our nerve-racking ordeal, I was increasingly worried that this might end badly. I had visions of the lead story on CNN the next day: “HONEYMOON COUPLE MURDERED BY TERRORIST SUICIDE DRIVER,” followed by a related story on how Suzuki hatchbacks are not recommended for off-road travel.

Can you find a road in this picture? Neither could we. But this is a photo of the road we took. In many sections it was almost impossible to tell where the road was. This is a “road” my ass, Google!

Can you find a road in this picture? Neither could we. But this is a photo of the road we took. In many sections it was almost impossible to tell where the road was. This is a “road” my ass, Google!

This misguided journey took us over the literal peak of the island, through what was inarguably the most treacherous terrain I had ever attempted. If you could ignore the fact that in minutes we were all most likely going to perish in an agonizing 1000-foot crash, I have to say, the panoramic view from up here was rather magical.

After what felt like three days, but was probably closer to 40 minutes, we reached the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen: a paved street. Somehow I had delivered the newlywed couple to their destination physically in one piece (albeit emotionally in tatters). I thought about asking them for $25 for having provided them with a thrilling memory they would undoubtedly tell their grandkids one day, but Michele thought that would be in poor taste.

Hopefully, someday Jeff and Beth will be able to forgive me for the terrifying experience I put them through. Maybe they’ll even laugh about it. They had to head back home to Kansas the next day. I briefly thought about offering them a lift to the airport. But something told me they’d probably prefer a taxi instead.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

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© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2021