Travel Diary, Part One

As reported previously, the C-O sent two of our reporters, Fashion Editor Vera Maraschino and outdoor contributor Arnie Tackleman, on a working vacation in Switzerland and northern Italy. We gave them a travel journal, and asked them to write down their experience as it happened. Here's the first dispatch.

Day One

Vera: Let me try to paint the picture. Arnie Tackleman is at the airport in a khaki shirt, tan cargo shorts, leather hiking boots, and a bright blue Dodgers cap. He looks like a bluebird on a man-shaped log, like Will Ferrell's audition for Crocodile Dundee. It's so bad, it kind of works. I pray to God Balenciaga doesn't see him and get ideas.

Arnie: A young Will Ferrell, maybe. With better hair. Speaking of pictures, Vera went to the art museum, ripped a painting down, and wrapped herself up in it. I'm impressed, though. All she brought for luggage is a duffle bag.

Vera: I'd rather wear a painting than a bowl of oatmeal. And it's not a duffle bag. It's a Carl Friedrik weekend bag and you're jealous. I checked my luggage before you got here.

Arnie: How much luggage are we talking?

Vera: Mind your business, Gladys Kravitz.

--

Vera: Okay, this is hilarious—Arnie brought nothing to do on the plane. He's already read the airline magazine, and the SkyMall, and the safety card. Now I guess he'll commune with the seat in front of him for six more hours.

Vera: Scratch that. The baby in the row ahead of us is peeking around the seat, staring at Arnie like a psychopath, totally blank-faced. Arnie asked me if babies usually stare like that. Hell if I know, but now the two of them are in a staring contest. I'll keep you updated.

Vera: Update. It's been fifteen minutes. Arnie and the baby are still staring.

Vera: Update 2. Still going, after half an hour. The baby is extremely chill. I'm confident the baby is high as shit.

Vera: Update 3. The contest is over! The baby had a huge, wet sneeze, out of nowhere, right in Arnie's face! Arnie kind of sputtered and yelled (and looked away—loser) and now the baby is crying. The baby's dad thinks Arnie scared the kid on purpose. I can not stop laughing. Like, the stewardess just came up and told me to stop laughing. I don't think I can.

Arnie: No regrets. I'd rather watch a baby than whatever garbage Vera's watching.

Vera: Sex and the City, for the record. Hot garbage. Hot, snarky garbage.

--

Arnie: Layover in Frankfurt. Vera has made her first costume change. Another dress robbed from an art gallery. Her last one was kind of a Paul Klee. I'd say this is more like a Rothko. Subtle change, but it makes a statement.

Vera: Well done, Arnie! You named two painters! Do another, or did you blow through your whole stash?

Arnie: Mondrian. Kandinsky. O'Keefe. Frankenthaler. Want me to keep going?

Vera: You think you're helping yourself, but you're only telling us you should know better. Here I was blaming ignorance.

--

Vera: Holy shit, Lugano is gorgeous.

Arnie: She's not wrong. The view from the room—all the lights reflected on the lake. I can't wait to see it in daylight.

Vera: Totally. I don't know about Arnie, but I could eat a giraffe. I say we try the hotel restaurant, and then go find a disco!

Arnie: No clubs tonight. Our first hike starts in eight hours. The guide'll be waiting.

Vera: You should have slept on the train.

Arnie: You can't take naps on travel days. Didn't you read the magazine? You won't adjust to the time zone.

Vera: Stop being a pansy and put some trousers on, or didn't you bring any?

Arnie: I have a pair of jeans.

Vera: I hate you, but that's no excuse to stay here and be boring. Hope you can dance in those boots.

Continue reading: Travel Diary, Part Two