Voyages: Heineken Dropped “In Cambodia”
Nineteen-years-old in the 1970s. I’m standing in an airport with a one-way ticket to the jungles of Pago Pago, on the other side of the world. Nothing to my name other than forty-dollars cash and a backpack with a couple changes of clothes. No education, no job waiting for me, no family or friends at the other end. Starting life anew.
Ten years later, it’s the 1980s. I’m standing in another airport, holding a one-way ticket to a desert I’d never seen. Again, no family or friends at the other end—in fact, the girlfriend I’d been hoping to soon marry had dumped me a few days earlier, because of this move. At least I had a job waiting this time. Time to start over again.
Fast-forward another ten or so years. It’s just a few months after the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. My new wife and I have both been laid off from corporate jobs. We can’t find new jobs and so are moving to the coast to start our own brand-new business. We’ve loaded all our belongings and two badly-behaved dogs into a U-Haul truck and we drive off into a new tomorrow.
It seems I’ve voyaged most of my life. Some times I was Charles Marlowe, traveling up a river on a quest. Others, I was Huckleberry Finn, floating down a river to escape.
Nowadays, I feel more like Norman Mclean. A river runs through it still, but now “I’m too old to fish the big waters.” I’m too old for travel and adventure.
Or am I?
Do I still have it in me? Do I have what it takes to be part of Heineken’s Dropped program? To let them blindfold and send me to another part of the world? Am I, like Stavros Kottas in the video below, still willing to take the risks? To leap out into the great unknown and find my way up, or down, or simply across, the next river?
To ride a giant rubber-duckie into the heart of darkest Cambodia?
Yes. I’m still the man I always was. I can do anything.
No. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m old and have responsibilities.
Ken is the Editor-in-Chief and an occasional contributor for Lazy Loafer. He is currently “loafing” on a bayou on the Emerald Coast of north Florida where he lives with three badly behaved dogs and the love of his life, Lorraine.