It’s good to see that a certain ’60s (lack-of) sensibility, hippiedom even, has come to the pages of the Wall Street Journal. There’s a chirpy article which would better adorn the style pages of a second-rate urban tabloid about an unplanned trip though Mexico.
Perhaps it is no surprise that the authors are a father and two sons who live in San Francisco, but that might be a tad judgmental. Having visited The City many times, I do know there are at least three or four normals who live there. Who knows, these guys could be among them.
The authors describe their unplanned sojourn, their adventures, their wonderful (to them) discoveries. Some of the things they encountered sound both interesting and worth doing; some sound like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. In the latter category, consider this bit of something “learned:”
I learned that an eight-hour overnight bus ride in the seats next to the toilet is gruesome.
Gosh, I’m ever so glad that these authors spared me from “learning” all by myself that an eight-hour overnight bus ride next to the toilet could be “gruesome.” Ya think?
On that note, it’s clear that the authors are idiots, or, at least, the dad, who ought to know better, is. But, like the hippie-wannabe he is, he concludes on this chirpy note:
Cheaper, I learned, doesn’t mean less fun or less of a good experience.
No, that’s not an iron rule. But pretty close.