So there I was in Turkey, on what was supposed to be a romantic double date, except the guy was a total jerk and there was only one of him (it was supposed to be a double date, but his friend backed out last minute). My travel buddy Kari and I were stuck at dinner with this insufferable man who kept interrogating us like we were applying for citizenship instead of just trying to have a drink.

That's when Kari started swirling her wine glass.

"What is this?" he demanded, clearly offended by her casual wine swirling.

Without missing a beat, Kari looked him dead in the eye and said, "Well, in America, when we have one sip left of wine, we swish the glass six times counterclockwise, then we do this gesture, then this one, and then..."

She paused dramatically.

"We make armpit fart noises."

And then this 47-year-old dental hygienist proceeded to demonstrate said armpit fart noises in a Turkish restaurant while maintaining perfect eye contact with our terrible date.

I should have been mortified. Instead, I joined in. We performed this completely made-up American wine tradition with such conviction that he actually believed us.

For the rest of our Turkey trip, every time we had one sip left of any drink, we'd do the whole routine. Six swirls…weird gestures…followed by armpit farts.

It became our thing.

Two women toast with wine glasses while standing on a rocky outcrop overlooking the town of Göreme in Cappadocia, Turkey at sunset. — *Kari + Laura [Turkey, 2021]*

Why I'm Telling You This

Because nobody talks about this stuff. Everyone shares their sunset photos and their perfectly plated meals, but nobody admits to the time they accidentally created an international incident involving fake flatulence traditions.

But here's the thing - that ridiculous night in Turkey? It's one of my favorite travel memories. Not the Instagram-worthy hot air balloon ride or the stunning views from Cappadocia. The night we weaponized armpit farts against a bad date.

When Everything Goes Wrong (And That's Actually Perfect)

Let me paint you another picture. Kari and I walk into our first Turkish bath having literally no idea what we're getting into. We'd seen some sexy photos online of women covered in bubbles, looking all serene and spa-like.

What actually happened: Two Turkish women grunted at us, stripped our towels off, dumped buckets of water on our heads, and left us topless on hot marble slabs for twenty minutes with zero explanation.

We're lying there whispering, "What is happening?" and "Are we about to be murdered?" when Kari starts (yet again) making armpit fart noises because the echo in the marble room was too good to pass up.

Eventually, one of us said "fuck it" and we stopped trying to be modest by covering up our boobs with our hands. By the time they came back to scrub us down, we were just two nearly naked American women giggling like idiots in a Turkish bath.

The Stories They Don't Put in Travel Guides

Airport bathrooms and trusted farts that shouldn't have been trusted. Language barriers that turn into 24-hour friendships with people you can't actually talk to. Dates that go so badly you invent entire fake cultural traditions just to mess with someone.

These are the moments that stick with you. Not because they're beautiful or profound, but because they're real and ridiculous and human.

Kari still talks about her "favorite underwear" that ended up in a Chicago landfill after an unfortunate incident at O'Hare. ("I wonder if they're still thinking of me," she says, completely seriously.)

I still think about those Turkish photographers who spent an entire day with us communicating only through Google Translate and somehow we all had the best time.

A woman in a flowing red dress poses dramatically next to a vintage purple Mercedes sedan in Cappadocia, Turkey. — [Turkey, 2021]

What I've Learned from Years of Travel Disasters

The trips where everything goes according to plan are fine. They're pleasant. They make nice photo albums.

The trips where everything goes wrong? Those change you.

When you're standing in a foreign country with no language skills, no plan, and possibly no underwear, you figure out pretty quickly that you're more adaptable than you thought. You learn that most people are kind, even when you're being a complete disaster of a human being. You discover that laughter really is universal, especially when someone's making armpit fart noises.

You also learn to pack extra underwear. Always pack extra underwear.

Two women smile while sharing what appears to be a large Mexican street corn (elote) covered in white cheese, chili powder, and lime. — [Mexico City, 2022]

The Real Travel Advice Nobody Gives You

→ Bring wet wipes. Seriously. International bathroom situations require backup plans.

→ Learn to say "bathroom" and "help" in the local language. Everything else is optional.

→ If you're going to Mexico, always carry small pesos. You have to pay to play sometimes when it comes to Mexican bathrooms.

→ Travel with someone who thinks chaos is hilarious instead of tragic.

→Don't trust every fart. Especially not at 7am in airport lounges.

Here's the Thing About "Going with the Flow"

Everyone talks about being a "go with the flow" traveler, but nobody tells you what that actually looks like. It looks like Kari and me following two Turkish men into a cave in the middle of nowhere because they promised us a "surprise." (It was a dance party. We survived.)

It looks like saying yes when someone invites you to a wedding where you don't know anyone, including the people you came with.

It looks like spending your dinner money on cat food because sometimes cats are better company than humans.

Going with the flow doesn't mean being reckless. It means being open to the possibility that your actual plans might suck, and the unplanned stuff might be amazing.

Two women sit laughing together in a rustic wooden structure with a thatched roof. One woman wears a yellow headband and white tank top while biting on what appears to be a cigar or small stick. — *[Cuba, 2024]*

Why I'm Not Sorry for Any of This

Because travel isn't about collecting passport stamps or checking off bucket list items. It's about becoming the kind of person who can laugh when everything goes sideways.

It's about building friendships with people over shared disasters. Some of my closest relationships were forged in moments of complete bewilderment.

It's about coming home with stories that make people snort-laugh at dinner parties instead of politely nod through your slideshow.

And sometimes, it's about accidentally becoming a cultural ambassador for fake American wine traditions involving armpit farts.

I'm not proud of everything I've done while traveling. But I'm also not sorry for any of it.

Because boring people don't have good travel stories. And life's too short to be boring.

Meet Kari Chance - living proof that I won my divorce by keeping my sister-in-law. By day, she's a dental hygienist probing people's gums with professional precision. By night (and on vacation), she's my partner in questionable travel decisions and the sleepiest adventurer you'll ever meet.

Fair warning: mention her cats once and you'll be trapped scrolling through 70,000 nearly identical photos on her phone. She's also recently earned the nickname "Uncle Kari" for carrying a mini chainsaw in her car and single-handedly replacing all the guts in her own toilets.

When Kari's involved, ordinary travel moments somehow transform into the kind of stories you'll be telling for years. She's the person who says "fuck it" when things get weird and just rolls with whatever chaos travel throws at her. Which is exactly the kind of travel companion you want - someone who can laugh at themselves when they're standing topless in a Turkish bath wondering if they're about to be murdered or pampered.