Fire and Ice

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It didn’t want to go. It’s cold, there’s absolutely nothing to do, and I’d be stranded for at least three months while my faithless fiancee, Stephanie, danced her way through half the men in Miami.

But when my editor assigned me to do the article, it was either book passage or hit the road looking for a new job. Old news: jobs are hard to come by, unless you relish the idea of a challenging career selling shoes for a living.

I had the pool secretary call Delta for reservations.

Traveler of Worlds is a magazine with six editors. Every month each editor gets one slot. In that space they can publish anything they damn well please. It can be an essay on the color red. It can be a case study of a paranoid schizophrenic. It can be an analysis of the architectural styles found in Port Burroughs, Mars. Our readers like the grab bag approach. They like having their horizons broadened. The eclectic nature of the subject material is worth snob points at the next social outing. They all seek to outdo one another with titillating trivia gleaned from this month’s article on the sexual habits of the inigloo, a fist-sized primate that lives in Greensward. They pay a steep price for a large-format glossy magazine that still goes to the trouble and expense to publish on paper. Looks good on the coffee table, you see.

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