The first trip I ever took truly prepared me for a life of travel. It was an extremely challenging adventure with many nerve-racking moments, and rendered me completely and utterly spent.
The journey started out in my dad’s scrotum, took me to my mom’s cervix, eventually into her uterus, and finally through her fallopian tubes toward my final destination. The whole thing started out as a pleasure excursion (so my dad tells me), but in the end it turned out to be quite a serious mission. In fact, when I got to the “What Is The Purpose Of Your Trip?” section of my customs form, I bypassed checking off the typical “Tourjism” and “Study A Broad” options, and instead opted for “(M)Other:_____________”. And in the little space provided, I wrote down, “InsemiNATION, bitches!”
Fast-forward nine months and thirty-four years later, and I’m pleased to announce that I was indeed able to fertilize my mom so that I could come into the world. Reflecting back on it now, I suppose what I’m most proud of is that I managed to beat out millions of others to get the job done. And through it all, I learned so much and made so many memories. I like to think of it as a classic cumming-of-age tale.
(Happy April Fools’ Day, y’all! Stay tuned for some great post-birth travel stories.
But for now……ovum and out.)
ABOVE: My first passport photo.