Open Jaw sprung from my loins, fully formed, many decades ago, dahrlings. The father, bless his motility, was the creator of the internet.
We were poor, my fellow vagabonds. Huddled in the Kardashian guest house with only my Bichon Frise’s warm breath for heat. Down to the last bottle of Chateau Lafitte. But despite the legions who said the travel industry will never embrace the World Wide Web (that’s what we called it back then), we persevered.
Little did we know that come 2019 a plague of such magnitude would cover the land that the heads of said land would force sticks up our nostrils to keep us safe. Guards were posted at borders. In order to cross you had to submit to more nasal torture. When all we wanted was to see the sun one more time…
Losses began to mount. People were mislaying hope. Whence there…on the horizon…some kind of inflatable super peoples. You punch and they just pop back up again! They are the travel advisor bubble tribes! You can blow them up but you can’t knock ‘em down.
It’s a miracle what they can accomplish. Leading their flock of weary, frightened customers. Showing them the way to travel nirvana. Despite being tired, masked, tired of being masked, and shot up the kiester with booster.
Now it’s time to rest, dear travel advisors. Discover long lost family members out in the plague infested tundra. Break bread. Drink wine. Open presents. And above all, laugh!
In our own quirky but darling little way, we love you, dear advisors.
MERRY CHRISTMAS! ????
