The Thong Also Rises (31 page)

The dining car was an oasis. Slightly shabby, but with a pedigree—the
Orient Express
's poor cousin. On the walls, small bouquets carved with inlaid wood brightened the dingy mahogany panels. The lamps were antique, the table settings plain. It was the last car on the train; I could see farmland out the back window.

We didn't have Yugoslav money. We didn't have much money of any kind. There were no menus. A waiter came and tried to discourage us from ordering, or so it seemed. He didn't speak English. Because the train had stopped, Yvette decided he was telling us to wait until we started rolling again. Or maybe, she surmised, it was too late for lunch and the kitchen was closed until dinner. But, we were too hungry to wait.

We gathered all the coins we'd collected across Europe, put a pile of shillings, guilders, pfennigs, and marks on the table, and pled with the waiter by making sad faces and rubbing our bellies. He shrugged, took the coins and left. We waited, watching a group of men in blue work clothes near the train depot warm their hands over a fire in a metal garbage can.The buildings behind them were gray, concrete, faceless. A train whistle cried for attention.

Our waiter returned with steaming bowls of goulash, some crusty bread and two glasses of wine. We beamed at him. We would have eaten mush. As hungry as we were, though, we ate slowly, laughing, sharing stories, soup spoons clinking in the bowls. We had the cozy dining car to ourselves. No soldiers, no baby, no Grandma.

“This reminds me of something,”Yvette said, pointing to a lamp. “Oh, I know. Our funky hotel in Amsterdam. What I remember most, though, was the look on your face when they said our room was on the fifth floor. I didn't think you'd ever be able to drag your suitcase up the stairs.”

“Do you remember when we got lost that night walking back to the hotel?” I countered. “You tried to convince me the men staring at us in the cars driving by were commuters who had worked late. And then you looked up and saw the ladies in red corsets in the windows.”

I swiped the last of the peppery goulash out of the bowl
with a piece of bread, sipped my wine, leaned back and sighed.The train ride wouldn't be a disaster after all.

We decided to go back to our compartment, get our books, and spend all our time in the dining car. I slid open the door and stopped dead. Our dining car had been unhooked from the train and the train had moved a half a block farther down the tracks.

“Omigod Yvette, the train's going to leave without us. We have to go. Now!”

We leapt from the door of the dining car, ran alongside the tracks past a clump of passengers who had gotten off the train, and jumped on just as the whistle blew.

Shaken, pumped with adrenalin, we walked as quickly as we could through the jostling cars, eager to reach our snug compartment, Grandma or not. As we passed the first sleeping cars, we began to notice people moving suitcases around and repacking. Yvette said they were preparing for bed.

We learned the real reason when we squeezed past a man we thought was a ticket-taker to get to our compartment: He was searching the luggage. And that's when I remembered my little hazelnut.

“Omigod Yvette,” I whispered in her ear. “The hash.”

Hands trembling, I opened our door and we collapsed onto the bench. Grandma was just finishing another diaper change. It looked like the baby had eaten too much fruit.

“What are you going to do?”Yvette asked me.

“I don't know,” I whispered as the customs officer put one highly polished shoe inside the door. The brass buttons on his pristine uniform gleamed. He glowered.

“Passports,” he said sternly. He slowly examined them, checking our ashen faces against those of the happy young women in the pictures. Then, he pulled Yvette's suitcase from
under the bench and opened it. Yvette and I sat stiffly, side by side, hands clasped in our laps, afraid to even blink. He shoved Yvette's suitcase aside with a grunt and opened the bag next to it.

It was Grandma's bag of dirty disposable diapers.

He couldn't get it closed. The smell ricocheted off the walls. It swam into our nostrils and crawled down our throats. The customs officer gagged. He gave us a sympathetic look. We smiled back sweetly. He stamped our passports as fast as he could, and left.

Yvette slammed open the window, stuck her head outside and gasped.

Grandma smiled and closed the bag.

I croaked from behind my hand, “Would you like another soda?”

Grandma got off the train at the first stop in Greece. We traveled on—to Athens and then to the islands. One day, on a beach in Mykonos, I gave my little hazelnut to a guy from Australia we had met a few hours earlier. He was leaving for Munich. We didn't have a pipe, anyway.

Barbara Robertson started traveling in the back seat of her father's Chevy and has been on the road as much as possible since. In addition to traveling for fun, her work as a journalist covering visual effects and animation has provided the ticket for journeys to many countries. When she's not packing or unpacking, she hangs out with her husband and three dogs in Mill Valley, California. She's won national and international awards for her articles, and writes regularly for
The Hollywood Reporter, The Bark, Animation Magazine, Film & Video, Computer Graphics World,
and other publications.

Asdorian, Elizabeth
146-152

Ashman, Anastasia M.
114-117

Balfour, Amy C.
153-159

Brady, Susan
178

Briefs-Elgin, Gina
28-32

Brown, Jennifer
144-145

Browne, Jill Conner
90-96

Caudron, Shari
83-89

Claymen, Lisa
19

Colvin, Jennifer
179-185

Cox, Jennifer
40-43

Crawford, Kate
133-134

Dreon, Nicole
33-38

Edward, Olivia
79-81

Eisenberg, Julie
54-62

Ellen, Elizabeth
43

Erler, Jessica
119

Everman, Cookie
14-15

Fonseca, Elizabeth
126-128

Fontaine, Michele
24

Frankel, Laurie
118-125

Friesen, Colleen
129-133

Gordon, Marcy
63-71

Halliday, Ayun
72-78

Hepburn, Katharine
115

Kably, Lubna
196-204

King, Laure McAndish
135-140

Kline, Laura
205-211

Landis, Konnie
52-53

Lombardi, Ann
192-195

Lott, Michelle M.
174-178

Lyles, Megan
44-52

Mack, Bonnie
57
,
122

McLane, Katie
97-102

Michaud-Martinez, Christine
170-173

Misuraca, Melinda
160-169

Notaro, Laurie
5-14

Orlean, Susan
103-113

Pehl, Mary Jo
62

Penn-Romine, Carol
107

Popper, Joanna
38-39

Radner, Gilda
172

Robertson, Barbara
212-217

Rudner, Rita
92

Schutte, Louise
102

Sheward, Tamara
16-27

Stigger, Carol
148

Sukkar, Deanna
141-144

Sussman, Ellen
1-4

Taketa, Mari
81-82

Tully, Catherine
47

Weiler, Julia
186-191

Zeno, Phyllis W.
16

My biggest thanks goes to Susan Brady, Larry Habegger, James O'Reilly, and Sean O'Reilly who bust their butts to make sure these women's travel humor books go out in top form. I love them like family, and their friendship is more important to me than any amount of book sales. Thanks also to our production assistant, Christy Harrington, and our interns, Emily Dunn and Lydia Harari, who generously gave their time and effort to this book. And the book would not get its good looks without the creative brainstorming from Peter Ginelli, the participation of Jaime McFadden, and the devoted hard work of Stefan Gutermuth.

We owe all belly laughs about the title to Jeremy Balka. Jer, I thoroughly appreciate you working out the statistical probabilities of what words would generate the most amount of guffaws…we love it, no matter what the conservatives say!

Continued thanks to Sean Keener, Chris Heidrich, and the BootsnAll staff who keep my websites running and my online following growing by leaps and bounds. It's deeply meaningful to have you believing in me and helping to make my dreams come true.

Heartfelt appreciation to my writing sisters Lauren Cuthbert, Lynn Ferrin, Danielle Machotka, Linda Watanabe McFerrin, Christi Phillips, and Alison Wright. Thank you so much for guiding me and remaining my biggest fans.

And as always, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything crazy without the love, strength, and friendship of my family and second families. They give me their guestrooms, do my work for me, act as airport shuttle drivers and storage units, send happy pictures of their kids, donate emergency funds, inspire me to achieve more—and
always give me unconditional invitations to come home despite large holes in my communication efforts. I love you all right back and I went alphabetical with this because you're all A-List in my book:

Kelly Amabile, Jessica Balesteri and Scott Hennis, Jim Benning, the Bradys, Dan Buczaczer and Jennifer Porcinito, Mike and Pat Buczaczer, John Caldwell, Sally Caton, Jennifer Colvin and Bob Read, Nathaniel Eaton, Merle Hammond and Max Abbott, the Heidrichs, Scott Gimple, Jacob Glezer and Judy Persky and family, Phil Gordon, Heather and Mark Grennan and family, the Lyons family, Rolf Potts, Leigh and Seth Presant and family, Lisa and Mike Ramsey, Bridget Burke Ravissa and family, Viv and Josh Spoerri and family, Oscar Villalon and Mary Ladd, the Walshs, Tara Weaver, and Dana and Brian Welsh and my sweet god daughters Berklee and Reilly.

And last but not least, my family. All the Leos, both West Coast and East Coast. Marylin Livingston and all the Livingstons (plus those who've changed their names). Extra special hugs to my dad, Garry L. Leo, who lets me call him at any hour of the night. Thank you so much for believing in me…(and not reading my risqué stories!)

“Naked Nightmare” by Ellen Sussman published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Ellen Sussman.

“An American (Drug-Smuggling) Girl” by Laurie Notaro excerpted from
I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies)
by Laurie Notaro. Copyright © 2004 by Laurie Notaro. Reprinted by permission of Villard, a division of Random House, Inc.

“Pills, Thrills, and Green Around the Gills” by Tamara Sheward excerpted from
Bad Karma: Confessions of a Reckless Traveller in South-East Asia
by Tamara Sheward. Copyright © 2005 by Tamara Sheward. Reprinted by permission of Summersdale Press.

“Cherub” by Gina Briefs-Elgin published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Gina Briefs-Elgin.

“And Then I Was Eight…Again” by Nicole Dreon published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Nicole Dreon.

“Hot Date with a Yogi” by Jennifer Cox excerpted from
Around the World in 80 Dates
by Jennifer Cox. Copyright © 2005 by Jennifer Cox. Reprinted by permission of Downtown Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

“Riding the Semi-Deluxe” by Megan Lyles published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Megan Lyles.

“The Princess and the Pee” by Julie Eisenberg published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Julie Eisenberg.

“Gently You Have to Avoid a Frightening Behavior” by Marcy Gordon published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Marcy Gordon.

“Paris, Third Time Around” by Ayun Halliday excerpted from
No Touch Monkey! and Other Travel Lessons Learned Too Late
by Ayun Halliday. Copyright © 2003 by Ayun Halliday. Reprinted by permission of Seal Press.

“The Dangers of Going Local” by Olivia Edward published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Olivia Edward.

“Opera for Dummies” by Shari Caudron published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Shari Caudron.

“His and Her Vacations” by Jill Conner Browne excerpted from
God Save the Sweet Potato Queens
by Jill Conner Browne. Copyright © 2001 by Jill Connor Browne. Reprinted by permission of Three Rivers Press, an imprint of Random House, Inc.

“The Yellow Lady” by Katie McLane published with permission from the author. Copyright © 2005 by Katie McLane.

“Lifelike” by Susan Orlean excerpted from
My Kind of Place: Travel Stories from a Woman Who's Been Everywhere
by Susan Orlean. Copyright © 2004 by Susan Orlean. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc.