Prologue:

I’m not going to lie, I felt obligated to write a “Big Bear” blog prior to even arriving in Big Bear. With a large group of great friends getting together to celebrate the New Year, I felt like it needed to happen. The problem was… How?

When making our way up the Southern California mountainside, I began to think: “What is there to really write about? All we’re really going to do is spend 3 days sitting all cozy-like in a cabin, making some smores by the fire, relaxing in a hot tub, and snowboarding down slopes made of man-made snow”.

But as I’ve learned many times before, it’s never safe to make assumptions…

The Actual Post Proceeds…

Day 1: Check-In Day

After dealing with a ton of Friday afternoon traffic, we arrive in 4 cars to our beautiful cabin for the weekend. With plenty of space and amazing amenities, we were very satisfied with our booking.

 

We would enjoy drinks and pizza until we all fell into a peaceful slumber. (A few may have ended up having mediocre sex beforehand).

 

 

 

 

 

Day 2: Missing McNevin

Typically, I’m the first person to wake up. So when our loving matriarch, Ashley Leeds, shook me out of a dream, I knew something was wrong…

Ashley: “Byron! Do you know where Brett is?”

She was speaking about her boyfriend (and our wildly unpredictable friend) Brett McNevin.

Byron: “Jesus woman, I’m fucking sleeping”.

I rolled over and fell back asleep. Moments later…

Ashley: “Wake the fuck up, Byron! Brett never came to bed last night. Get your fat Cuban ass out of bed. This is your event, you need to get everyone up and get to the bottom of this!”

Everyone supposedly had more to drink than I remembered. But what I did remember was that Brett went for a walk sometime around 2:00am. After waking up the rest of the gang, I had two attorneys by the names of Beau Bryant and Norman Aspis ask everyone “Is it true that the last time you saw Brett McNevin was at 2:00am, prior to taking his walk that had nothing to do with recreational drug use?”. Everyone concurred with my recollection. And with Brett’s phone sitting on the nightstand, we knew we had to make haste. So, after slowly savoring a delicious egg and bacon breakfast, our search party began…

Amy Logan and Abbey Cavendish ran for the hills. But not in the way that cowards run for the hills, but in the way people generally go about their morning jogs. They just so happened to have been literally running for the hills (while simultaneously getting their morning jog routine in… in Lululemons, in case I can get some ad money out of this). They returned to bring us the news we all feared: Brett was not found anywhere within the residential zone we were in. As feared, we would all have to get up now and go looking for Brett. SO WITH HASTE, THE ACTUAL SEARCH PARTY BEGAN…

… After we all decided to split a 7lb burrito at this Mexican restaurant in town. It was Anna Nelson’s idea. While eating said burrito, we agreed to split up into two separate groups in order to cover more ground.

The group I accompanied consisted of my older brother Adam (like me, but the opposite), Brian Halbur (has a general interest in Norwegian women), Brian Gallagher (Got your last name off Venmo of all places, fancy that) Tyler Gasperlin (He’s still single, ladies), Kristine Panda (She’s Asian), Tim Marks (Amy’s husband) and previously introduced Anna and Amy.

*Consider us Group B (for Byron)

While Group A had the easy task of navigating the local village, Group B (for Byron) was tasked with summiting the top of a moderately leveled nature hike. With our bellies full of burrito, we were at a great disadvantage. Regardless of the obstacles, and a general amount required effort, we succeeded. With such a grand view of everything within 100 miles (or 10, whatever, fuck you), we were able to finally spot…. No Brett. (Just a pretty lake and some trees that made for good Instagram photos.)

After taking 47 photos, Group B (for Byron) was finally satisfied with the media that would inevitably get posted on “The Gram”. BUT during this photo taking process, we ended up forgetting why we ascended the mountain in the first place. We would go on to enjoy a ride down Big Bear’s famous Alpine Slide…

We waited a fucking hour to go down that slide…

With the sun coming down, we had to face the harsh reality that Brett would not be joining us back at the cabin that night. We would get comfy again regardless, hoping that Ashley would go take care of the whole mess.

She didn’t.

Day 3: That Fucking Grizzly Bear!

With the Brett McNevin missing case handed over to more suitable authorities, our entire group decided to hit the ski slopes.

 

 

Long story short, we shredded the gnar pretty damn hard. But with the lack of real snow, the limited amount of open runs began to grow boring for shredders such as Tim, Tyler, Beau and myself. We proceeded to make our way to the back of the mountain, which was off limits to the public. To our lack of surprise, the back slopes quickly transitioned from snow to gravel, and we were forced to dismount our boards and continue down the mountain on foot.

It sucked ass.

With no phone signal, and hours of trekking, we found ourselves to be lost (Which is a funny contradiction of words to throw into that statement). But we were not alone…

50 feet ahead arose a massive Grizzly Bear.

Tyler: “Guys, I do a lot of outdoor shit. So believe me when I say that we need to make ourselves look big, and make a ton of noise.”

We followed his orders; raising our arms and yelling like madmen. Despite outnumbering the bear 4-1, that motherfucker didn’t back down. Now standing on his hind legs, we were pressured to make alternative choices, in hopes of saving our literal skins.

Tim: “Well boys, are we fucked?”

 Beau: “Have you seen the Revenant?”

 Tim: “Good point, we’re fucked.”

But by some miracle, the bear turned and ran away as we became quickly surrounded by what looked to be a local tribe of sorts. Their skin was covered in vibrant body paint, and gave off a very herby odor. But in the midst of this hippie colony, we were thrilled to notice a familiar face.

Stepping out of the pack and towards us was Brett, alive and well. He began to explain to us that during his walk (that had nothing to do with recreational drug use), he chose to let his heart lead him into the wilderness, and to join these new people in living a natural lifestyle.

We simply couldn’t believe it.

And neither should you.

Grizzly Bears don’t even inhabit Big Bear. This is all a lie.

Given that I have taken a few minor detours in this story, I will make it up to you by providing a completely true story of what happened that weekend…

THE ACTUAL ACTUAL BLOG POST:

We spent 3 days sitting all cozy-like in a cabin, making some smores by the fire, relaxing in a hot tub, and snowboarding down slopes made of man-made snow.

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THE END

 

I got picked up from the Riu Palace at 4:30 am on Monday, November 27^th. I was the first of my comrades to leave…

Leaving the Riu Palace (our all inclusive resort) would become more of a challenge than it was entering. You see, from the moment you land in Cabo, you are a wanted man. The taxi window was happy and available to drive us to the Riu, and I can’t say I blame them. I would be happy too if I could charge $100 per 30 minute trip. Luckily, there’s a polite way to wipe that smile off the cashier’s face: “Charge this credit card in pesos, por favor”. That simple request of mine saved our group $35 (1,200 pesos is the “local’s” price, converts to about $65 USD as of this post.), and their hesitant display of compliance ensured me of that.

But as I mentioned, the challenges present themselves when “departure time” rolls around. I’ll break down all three:

First off, there are the physical ones. In my case, a 4:00am wake up alarm doesn’t sound great after 4 days of all-inclusive drinks and food. To my own surprise, I was at least smart enough to end my last night in peace; smoking a Montecristo while looking out to sea. The previous 3 nights would still leave an impact for days to come. They consisted of what felt like endless rounds at the bar, dancing into the wee hours, and making return trips to the 24 Hour Riu Lounge. This lounge was home to perhaps the most insulting spread of food on the planet. Examples include: Nacho cheese that made Kraft taste gourmet, Burgers, Hot Dogs, and stale buns meant to accommodate a pathetic drunk man. For three nights, I was that drunk man (As were my comrades, but why spread the icky cheese sauce around?). For the record, I can’t say I regret any of my trips to the 24 Hour Lounge. The displays of bafoonery amongst my peers were too precious in these moments to imagine life without them. One of our comrades attempted to wash nacho cheese off his hands, not realizing that the water dispenser was not a sink. The cleaning crew didn’t appreciate the pool of water on the floor, but in the name of entertainment, I kinda did. This same comrade would fall down a set of stairs 10 minutes later, only to pop up relatively unharmed.  With all that being said, the physical damage to my body was a lot to bear when that alarm clock went off Monday morning.

Secondly, there are the mental challenges. There are a lot of questions that run through your head when spending a Thanksgiving holiday in Cabo San Lucas. These questions include (but are not limited to): Was this necessary? Does it matter? Will I ever want to drink again? Does my family understand this decision? Do I understand this decision? Etc. etc. etc. Most of these questions made their way into my head AFTER it was all said and done. Upon landing in Mexico, these questions went more like: Will I drink more beer or liquor? Can I eat 5 tacos or 10? Is wearing this sombrero all weekend going to get me in trouble? When Monday morning rolled around, they became: Will I survive work today? And Will I actually make it back home?

 Thirdly (and finally), there were the logistical challenges. These are the reasons that forced me on a 4:30 am Super Shuttle. Although airport shuttle service could be arranged through the hotel, they deemed my 8:25am return flight home “too early” (unless paying for a private chauffeur, that is). My next best option came in the form of said Super Shuttle, which was really just a white van. Surprise surprise, I would be the only one riding in that van back to the airport…in the dark. Once realizing this, I did the following: a) Shared my Iphone location with the comrades back at the hotel b) tracked my progress on google maps c) Pieced together an action scene in my head, in which I miraculously escape a cartel kidnapping. As you can probably guess, nothing bad ended up happening. But it did make me think, Man! If they ever wanted a chance! My sombrero and I hopped out of the van at 5:00am, and back into the Cabo airport. The next inconvenience was the 3 hours I had to kill before the flight home. To this day, I still have no idea why Super Shuttle had to pick me up at 4:30am. It’s as if they were punishing me for finding the cheapest ride back ($22 USD).

For those who know me well, you know the drill. I landed back in LA, hopped in a Lyft home, showered, and got into work by 11:00am (Thanksgiving airport traffic really slowed this one down). As semi-expected, my immune system would collapse about an hour later, and I would wind up in bed for the remainder of the day. “You can’t win ‘em allll!!!!” – Nabeel when playing “3 Man” in Cabo.

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Post Note:

Oh fuck, I almost forgot to include cool travel spots and stuff! If you want to explore neat shit outside of the resorts, be sure to water taxi over to Divorce/Lover’s beach and check out the marine life. The Arc is also quite pretty. If you’re a big baller like Beau and Paul, spend and extra day swimming with whale sharks! I’ve heard wonderful things about this day trip, and will remain forever jelly, brah!

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If you dare to eat local:

Tacos Guss – Just beyond the line where streets begin to look shady, sits an amazing family taco shop. Some of the better tacos I’ve had in my life, washed down with some sugar cane Coca Cola, of course.

 

That’s all folks! I still need to figure out where I’m heading in January, but will look forward to Big Bear in the meantime.

 

All right, I’m hopping back into the saddle here.

A “terrible” thing happened somewhere in between my 6 month backpacking extravaganza and now: A job.

Such a blessing and a curse, a job can be.

A Blessing! With a depleted bank account, the job saved me from my financial woes.

A Curse! Time. Oh what a beautiful thing our time can be. More valuable than money itself is time, and what time is spent on. I never took for granted 2016: The year of open time, open possibilities, and open-ended wonder. I am now in the process of wrapping up 2017: A year with less time, fewer possibilities, with open ends that extend as far as the word “Sunday”.

But let’s be practical here: This is what we do to earn our Blessings in life.

It doesn’t matter if you’re working as a farm hand, or sitting on a trust fund. We work to earn our blessings. We work to gain purpose. And if in times you feel you haven’t, perhaps somebody did it for you, as you will do for others. (And then there are some people that just fucking suck, but they aren’t reading this).

Money may not buy me happiness, but it can buy me time and provide ways to hone in on my purpose.

 I am very happy with my job (Like seriously, No Bullshit.) But like nearly all jobs, it can keep you grounded in a physical sense. I’m rambling now, so let’s move forward…

From 2013 – 2015, I commuted 60 miles a day. When returning from my backpacking hiatus in late 2016, I decided that the value of those hours driving were “too damn high”. When starting my next job, I did what I was so reluctant to do for several years: Move to Los Angeles.

I now commute 2 miles a day (I’m considering walking/biking). The result is an extra 330 hours of free time from now until June, which means more: Home cooked meals, song writing, screen writing, cleaning, gym, and Netflix.

Monday – Fridays were just about as good as they could be with the new setup. BUT despite my best efforts to manipulate the “routine”, I was still at a quandary in regards to getting my travel fix.

I understand that we get 2 ENTIRE WEEKS off a year, but that’s a lot of pressure to put on a travel wish list. It becomes stressful thinking that we’re limited to blowing our load on one or two trips a year. So I’m playing around with “express trips”, if you will…

Let’s take for example this past weekend, when I made my first visit to Austin, Texas…

But Byron, There’s No Time!

There is time. Not much of it. But if you’re willing to give up sleep and comfort, you will be rewarded with more time and more memories. My longtime pal Beau Bryant was swamped with work over the weekend, yet still joined in on the voyage. (Hooray Laptops!)

But Byron, It’s Too Expensive

• RT Flight – $200
• Hostel (2 Nights) – $60
• Stubb’s Concert – $30
• Bus Pass – $2.50 a day (We used a lot of Lyft/Uber for convenience, but not required)

*Don’t tell me this isn’t affordable, while simultaneously planning your 4^th trip to Vegas this year*

Austin Trip Breakdown:

Outbound Flight – Saturday morning (6:00am)

Accommodation – Drifter Jack’s Hostel

Experiences:

• Visiting State Capitol
• Hope Outdoor Graffiti Gallery
• Congress Bridge Bats
• Concert at Stubb’s (Matisyahu/Common Kings)
• Partied on 6^th Street

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Food/Drinks:

• Two Breweries (Lazarus and ABGB)
• Texas BBQ (Duh!) – La Barbeque & Terry Blacks
• Torchy’s Tacos
• Kerbey Lane Café

 

 

 

Returning Flight – Monday morning (5:00am)

(Landed back in LA with 2 hours to nap before heading into work)

But Byron, That Sounds Too Ambitious

For the record, we were fucking exhausted by the end of the weekend. As I’ve mentioned earlier, these express trips will leave you with little sleep and zero comfort. You will spend your Monday in a delirious state of “Was that a fucking dream?”… It wasn’t.

Ambitious? Yes.

But Aren’t We All?

 

July 18^th

I didn’t know much about Ginza before walking into Ginza. Ginza is a district within Tokyo that appears to be the city’s main hub for everything “posh”. Ginza is to Tokyo as Beverley Hills is to Los Angeles. But Ginza, more importantly, is to Ginza as Ginza is to Ginza. Ginza, Ginza, Ginza…

Greg and myself had stumbled into Ginza with the intention of eating at a local favorite spot by the name of “Guy-An” in order to eat some of the cheapest (but well reviewed) beef in Tokyo. Sadly for us, we were informed on arrival that the restaurant would be closed all day to honor “Marine Day”.

What you will learn quickly while traveling the world is that other countries take their national holidays a little more seriously. Let’s put it this way: You wouldn’t have to worry about finding an open place to eat on Veteran’s Day in the states.

So after receiving the news, we were “Hangry” to say the least. It was time to look into other options. Greg and I have had sushi practically every day, and we were now keen on keeping that train rolling. With the help of Siri, I was given a list of “Cheap sushi restaurants in Ginza”. I forgot the name of the first place that popped up, but that’s where we went. Let’s just call the place “Oh Fuck”. Does that work? Good! Moving on…

We arrive via 3G navigation to a 4-story building, no signs of “Oh Fuck” to be seen. Figuring it was on one of the floors, we stuck around and asked people like typical derpy tourists. Out of nowhere, a white man in a blazer pops out from behind us like a guardian angel or some shit…

Blazer Guy: “Looking for the sushi bar? Second Floor. It opens in 5 minutes though”.

Blazer Guy walks away. Who was this guy? What does he do here in Japan? Does he speak Japanese too? Where the fuck did he come from? Is he on a lunch break? Did he just step out of an international business meeting? I’d find out soon enough.

After killing 5 minutes at a gift shop on the first floor, we make our way up to the second, in hopes of gorging on some sushi. We step into an 8-seat sushi bar, and that is all. If you’ve seen the amazing documentary film “Jiro Dreams of Sushi” you can sort of picture what we walked into. If you have not seen the film, do yourself a favor. I think it’s still on Netflix…

So standing before us in this intimate setting are a row of sushi chefs.

Head Sushi Chef: “You have reservation?”

Greg: “Uhh… no? Do we need one?”

Me (under breath): “Oh fuck…”

There are 4 people sitting at the sushi bar: A couple on the right end and a couple on the left. The man from the couple on the left was Blazer Guy. I was beginning to realize why he was wearing a blazer and I didn’t like it…

“Oh fuck…”

Do you remember that scene from “The Empire Strikes Back”? You know, when the door slides open to the dining room, and the team is greeted by Lord Vader? Yeah, it reminded me of that. Meanwhile there were as many sushi chefs as there were people standing in front of us.

Head Sushi Chef: “It’s ok… sit down sit down”

The Blazer Guy was shooting us a look that would be spelled out as something like: “Are you fucking kidding me?”…. He probably made this reservation months ago, which means I was getting scared.

“Oh fuck…”

We sat down hesitantly as the sushi chefs prepared for war, breaking down the wasabi and sharpening their blades of sushi slaughter.

“Oh fuck…”

The Blazer guy and his significant other are handed a drink menu. The head sushi chef approaches us…

Head Sushi Chef: “Drink?”

 External Me: “Uh water?”

Internal Me: “Oh fuck…”

To the left, Blazer guy is scanning the sake options…

Blazer Guy (to chef): “You know, we first ate here EXACTLY one year ago…”

“Oh fuck…”

At this point the chefs had cracked open a couple fancy ass bottles of water for us (probably melted ice from Mt. Fuji or some shit honestly), along with a menu. We’re also shitting our pants now.

There wasn’t an option under $200 a person…

“Oh fuck…”

 “Oh fuck…”

 “Oh fuck…”

^Just about all of these throughout the story were internalized, but a few of these were mumbled to Greg at this point.

I don’t remember exactly what we said before handing the menus back and making our escape, but I do remember my hands motioning something like “Don’t kill us, please”. I was also trying really hard not to laugh. A few chuckles made it out as we scurried out. We left “Oh Fuck” with our assholes pinched so tight you couldn’t cram a butt-fucking pea up them if you tried.

**July 19*

With all that said and done, we look forward to making our second attempt at “Guy-An”. I forgot mention earlier that it serves specifically Kobe beef, and will cost $100.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was actually surprised this domain name was not already taken, for I thought the porn industry had covered everything by now. Before scoffing and retreating from this page, let me explain. I found it necessary to name my blog “Travel Boners” because a) This site will provide travel porn, b) it fully encapsulates my high levels of excitement in sharing my stories, and c) It makes me laugh. On top of these three main reasons, I also feel like this title serves as an early “test” for my wonderful readers. Take this as your official warning. If you can handle “Travel Boners”, you likely carry the sense of humor capable of enjoying my future posts to the fullest. I have no intentions on holding back here.  Whether you are a family member, friend, or simply a fan of the site, I hope that the upcoming entries can provide a foundation of inspiration and personal goals of your own. So welcome everybody! Sit back, relax, have a few laughs, and follow me along in this incredible journey that is life. And to those of you entering this site in hopes of finding an international database of porn, I apologize…