Introduction
by Jennifer L. Leo
I was in the tropical jungle of northern Thailand on a hill tribe trek when I had the opportunity to smoke some opium. And I'm not talking about a hand-crafted cigarette in the back of the line while the tour group took a break from the muddy hike…no, this was in a den. An opium den where only the coolest members of the group would be invited in. It was certainly not on the tour description, and that made it all the more appealing.
Visions of a cozy room with long sofas, big velvety red floor pillows, and sheer curtains that gently graced the floorboards came immediately to mind. And the pipes, they would be antiques. I could already feel the grooves of the intricately-carved designs with silver and gold detailing. We'd be smoking a family heirloom that literally got passed from generation to generation. Oh yeah, I couldn't wait to get in there. This was a story, this was an adventure, this would be something to tell everybody—but my father—back home. Who cared if I didn't smoke? I'd worry about that technicality later.
The Doctor, a Virginia medical student I'd befriended, motioned for me to follow him. It was time. The anticipation mounted with the same excitement as getting on a fast rollercoaster ride. I was about to set foot in a world of such exotic intoxication that my life and my writing would be forever changed. My hand was already squeezing the cash in my pocket in hopes it would be enough for just one try. We walked up to the straw hut and followed the Thai guide inside. I saw that it was just one room. In the back corner of the hut two Thai men were lying across from each other on thin mats that one might roll up and take to the beach. In front of the smoker's head was a contraption that didn't look anything like a family heirloom or ancient Thai artifact. It was a cut-up Coke can with a candle underneath it. I gasped. This wasn't an opium den, this was a crack house!
See, that's the thing about us eager travelers. The mere whisper of a far-off destination seeps into our heads and swirls around like a cotton candy machine until we have a romantic notion of a trip all big and puffy and sweet. As we book our ticket and pack our bags, we're smiling and humming and most likely flapping our lips about how this is going to be the best trip ever. We've saved our money, we've done all our research, this trip is just what we need.
And sometimes it is. Sometimes our dreams come true. Other times, our fantasies turn into miserable itchy unwanted events that are so far removed from a brag-worthy story we feel like we can't come home until we turn it around. Well, we can. Why? Because here at Travelers' Tales we've taken these uncomfortable trips and given them a home. Sand in My Bra and Whose Panties are These?—the two previous women's travel humor books in our series—delivered the kinds of stories you were glad didn't happen to you. You laughed, you cried, and you told me that surely there were more types of undies than just our tops and bottoms. Yes, ladies, there are.
At your request, we present The Thong Also Rises. The laughs within range from short snickers to laugh-out-loud gut-busters from women who didn't quite get the travel experience they bargained for. Feel free to scream "Eeeewwww!" when Julie Eisenberg gets splashed with urine in a tight cruise ship bathroom in "Princess and the Pee," sympathize with Nicole Dreon in "And Then I was Eight…Again" as she relives being eight, year after year, because her parents are cheapskates, ask Christine Michaud what's best to wear when you're riding a camel in "Travel Light, Ride Hard," navigate the attention of men while traveling solo with Elizabeth Fonseca in "Ravioli Man," and giggle like school girls with Ayun Halliday and her mom as they endure the sounds of Parisian romance in a hotel with thin walls in "Paris, the Third Time Around."
While you're reading these Ms.-Adventures, it is perfectly O.K. to call your friend and tell her you just read something worse than her last disaster. Suggest our series to your book group when you have a busy month and need a break from a heady novel. And especially give our books to someone you know who's hitting the road for the first time. She needs to know that a perfect trip doesn't always make for the best storytelling. In fact, just the opposite. The most important thing is to have fun while enduring the fruits of your folly. And if for any reason you can't laugh in the middle of your misadventure, you'll find that it always becomes funnier as soon as you're back home. For these women whose stories you're about to read, it definitely took a wee bit longer…