Aric S. Queen is not like the rest of us. And that’s a good thing. A decade of global criss-crossing has introduced Aric to far-flung corners of the world, and along the way he has met some wild people and gathered some very unique stories. In a series for Converse.com, Aric lets us in on some secrets. In part one, Aric explains why he travels in the first place.

The problem with my addiction is that no one ever intervenes.

No friends raise their eyebrows and ask “Are you still doing that?”

No family members turn it around and tell you that by “doing this, you’re hurting both yourself and them.”

No significant others trick you into taking part in a television show.

Nothing.

In fact, they support it.

Condone it.

Feed it.

They wish they were addicted as well.

I know this because of the questions they ask.

And of the questions you might ask.

For example, a little bit about me.

My name is Aric, I’m tall, I make great mashed potatoes and I left the U.S. in 2000 and have been traveling for almost 10 years now.

Now, be honest - after reading that, did you find yourself saying “that poor man! His poor family!! Why doesn’t someone do something? Say something??”

In fact, you probably support it too.

Now wait – I’m not saying Travel is evil in the hopes that it grabs your attention and then I can lay on some poetic introspection that ends with a comparison to chocolate or sunshine.

I’m actually saying it’s becoming sort of a problem.

A big one.

And it’s not for the reasons that you might think – oh sure, it’s difficult to have a serious relationship, be it friend or otherwise, when you’re only in one place for 4-5 months; it’s tough when you realize the cheap hostel you’re sleeping in is twice as old as your own country, or that once you realize how easy it is to live cheap, find work and make friends, your life becomes one of escapism – turning every stressful experience into a catalyst for hitting the road again.

These things are bad, sure.

But the biggest problem of choosing a life off that beaten track is something much, much worse…

People find you interesting.

You are of interest.

You possess something that makes people want to know more.

And that’s dangerous.

They use the word ‘world-traveler’ when they introduce you at dinner parties.

Your opinion starts to count.

Your pictures are viewed and some people say “OOooohhhhhh”.

Other people will even start to remember you.

Think about you occasionally, asking “I wonder what he’s up to?”

And these things keep you going.

But can I be honest about traveling? Really honest? Ok. It’s a pain. A huge pain.

There are visas and fees and late trains and strange food and even stranger fellow travelers and airport strikes and bad exchange rates and rickshaws that stink and boats that stop even though there’s no scheduled stop and medicine that looks like potpourri and shoes that don’t fit and weather that doesn’t care about your plans.

But you keep going.

Even though once you’ve taken a bus in India with chickens next to you, you really don’t ever want to take another bus in India with chickens next to you.

You just keep going.

Because people find the story of your bus ride in India with chickens next to you fascinating.

I’ve never been fascinating.

I don’t ever remember growing up with anyone fascinating.

But fascinating is how people find you and your stories.

And there is no cure, no patch, no retreat in the mountains for that.

It’s been almost a decade now, and with each trip I take, the more I wish for a quiet existence where I can sit down to watch a travel program and not sell the television I’m watching it on to get there.

But then people would stop inviting me to dinner parties.

I’d stop being interesting.

And that is something I don’t think I could handle.

A long time ago, I stopped traveling out of the interest in other places and began traveling because it interested people in me.

Sad, but very true.

For more of Aric’s insight check out www.aricwithana.com

Tags: life, traveling

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