Ask Dr. Ding

Some folks can’t travel worth a hoot. Dr. Ding has observed them, standing smack-dab in the center of a busy airport thoroughfare, staring glassy-eyed and tight-pantsed at the monitors, looking miserable and laden down with excess luggage.

So to avoid this kind of travel buzzkill, read onward.

1. Travel light. The rule is: twice as much money and half the clothes. Trust. But be sure to pack 1 or 2 pair of dark, wicking/washable undies. I like Ex Officio. And make sure you wear comfortable slacks or sweats on days when you’re sitting lots. This prevents the dreaded crotchal region circulatory cutoff from ruining your courageous journey.

2. Forget all that crap about drinking lots of water ahead of time and packing your own snacks. Half the fun of travelling is buying Hoochie Hairstyle magazines and eating overpriced ham sandwiches, thereby saving you valuable pre-trip time to get a massage or find a cure for simple chronic halitosis.

3. Talk to the locals. Dr. Ding never would have learned to say “Ma’am you’ve irreparably hurt my feelings, now get out of my cab” in the Mayan language if she hadn’t attempted to communicate in her broken, profanity-laced Spanish while cabbing it along the Mexican Riviera. Or found out about the least-touristy beaches selling the best Cuban cigars and the cheapest cocktails.

4. Plug yourself into an iPod or MP3 player. Get the noise-blocking headphones. Calms anxiety, dampens engine noise, drowns out the person next to you droning on about needlepointing pies onto kittens or whatever at the PTA meeting funcheon.

5. Accept in your heart that magnets make the best souvenir gifts. They’re light and can be stowed easily in the odd suitcase pocket. Just don’t store them next to any electronic stuff, or you’ll give yourself the jimmy leg. Dr. Ding is partial to the kind of glittery, bejeweled magnets suitable for any drag queen dressing-room refrigerator.

Happy travels, Ding-a-Lings!

[Ed. note: That's Irish D.Q. Danny LaRue up above. I know it looks like me, but it's not.]

*Personal tribute to Kinky Friedman’s very touching essay entitled “My Scrotum Flew Tourist: A Personal Odyssey” which you can read here.