Remember a few weeks ago, when you assigned me a travel story to [Insert Midwestern City Here]. And remember I called you halfway through the trip because I was about to go off on one of the PR reps who told me that a baseball game was “not optional” and I had to go even though I had been up since 6 AM and I was dead tired and willing to walk back to the hotel alone?
I didn’t have much fun on that trip.
Now don’t get me wrong, I truly appreciate that I’m in your Rolodex when travel stories come up. I’m not a travel writer, per se. But at least three times a year, you send me somewhere fun to cover travel for your section. And for that, I’m truly grateful.
Have I ever told you that?
There was Paris. Anguilla. Barbados. The list goes on.
And it’s because of you, dear Kym, that I get to go on these wonderful (read: free) trips and eat great food and have a getaway from the stresses of everyday life.
But the reason for this letter, my dear Kym, is to inform you about my most recent trip.
I write to you from Santa Fe, New Mexico, a place I have never been.