Guest Post Edition | 2019 | Travel Fail Hall of Fame
Every now and then, a travel fail is so gloriously chaotic that it becomes legend, passed down around campfires, retold at dinner tables, and immortalized in family lore. This is one of those stories.
It’s not our story (for once), but it’s too good not to share. It stars our long-time friend “Warren” (name changed to protect… well, not really, he knows what he did), and takes place just a few months before COVID turned the world upside down.
So, buckle up. This one’s a ride.
🚗 The Great American Bro Trip
In mid 2019, Patrick planned an epic U.S. road trip for three of his South African friends, determined to give them an off-the-beaten-path experience. No New York. No Disney. Just pure, homegrown adventure.
The plan: Fly into New Orleans, drive to Dallas, and check off a bucket list of local gems, think drag racing, swamp boat rides, rodeos, and noodling (for the uninitiated, that’s when you stick your hand in a muddy hole hoping a catfish bites it, then yank it out and show it off like a wild man).
The excitement was real. The South Africans, whom we’ll refer to as “Andrew,” “Earl,” and of course, our disaster-prone hero “Warren”, met up at JFK airport before flying down to meet Patrick in New Orleans.
This is where the wheels started to fall off.
🎒 Manbags, Missing Passports & Mild Panic
Jet-lagged and giddy with reunion energy, “Warren” managed to misplace his manbag (yes, manbag) somewhere between touchdown and takeoff. In it: both his passports, all his credit cards, his wallet, and driver’s license.
He didn’t notice until hours later, when they were already deep in the French Quarter. After the initial wave of mocking subsided (manbag jokes for days), the grim reality set in. The bag was gone. Forever.
With no ID and no way to pay for anything, “Warren” quietly panicked while the others gleefully promoted him to Patrick’s future lawn care team, assuming he’d never make it back to South Africa.
Still, the road trip continued.
🐟 Noodling, Triumph & … A Flesh Wound?
Despite the ID crisis, spirits were high as the gang explored the wonders of Louisiana and Texas. And then came the moment they’d all been waiting for: noodling.
Outfitted with bravery and borrowed gloves, they waded into the lake. “Warren,” true to chaotic form, caught the first and largest catfish, a win he desperately needed.
But as he climbed out of the water, adrenaline gave way to pain: a mysterious hole had appeared in the top of his foot, courtesy of the murky underwater wrestling match.
So what did they do?
In true 40-something South African male fashion: splashed some water on it, wrapped it in toilet paper, and poured a drink. Medical degrees, who needs ’em?
✈️ Embassy Hopping & a Questionable Foot
Two days and several rodeos later, the group arrived in Dallas. Before heading home, they made a detour to the British Embassy in Houston, hoping to replace one of Warren’s now-infamous missing passports. No luck.
So with no ID, a limp, and a roll of toilet paper still standing in for first aid, “Warren” braced himself for a miracle.
Enter Patrick: seasoned traveler, expert negotiator, airport whisperer. After a lot of sweet-talking, he managed to get “Warren” on a domestic flight to Washington, D.C., where the South African Embassy was their last hope. Meanwhile, “Andrew” and “Earl” headed back to their wives, grateful to return with all their documents and limbs intact.
But the chaos wasn’t done.
🌩️ Storms, Delays & Wardrobe Woes
A summer storm rerouted flights along the East Coast from Charlotte to Baltimore, and they eventually made it home to D.C. at 2 a.m., sans luggage.
This may not sound too tragic, unless you’re “Warren,” a 6’4″, broad-shouldered man with zero chance of fitting into anything Patrick owned. To make matters worse, he’d been wearing the same travel-stained clothes for over two days, and his foot was now the color of an overripe plum.
When Mandy opened the door the next morning, she was greeted by a limping, bandaged, and deeply unwashed “Warren.” She offered upgraded first aid, but it was, as they say, too little, too late.
🛂 The Final Countdown
After a long, sweaty day at the South African Embassy, they finally had a victory: a temporary passport! “Warren’s” long-suffering wife booked him on the very next flight home.
At 4 a.m., with a borrowed $100 bill in hand, he climbed into an Uber toward Dulles Airport. Mandy and Patrick stood in the driveway, waving him off with fingers crossed and whispered prayers.
Twenty minutes later, an airline representative pulled up to the house, with “Warren’s” long-lost luggage.
Because of course they did.
🏥 Home at Last (Barely)
27 hours later, “Warren” landed in Durban, triumphant, broken, and still wearing that same awful outfit. His wife whisked him straight to the hospital, where he was promptly hooked to a drip and treated for a raging foot infection.
He sent back a photo to Mandy and Patrick: exhausted, smiling faintly, IV in one arm, dignity nowhere in sight.
📌 Moral of the Story?
Always keep your passport on your person.
Never trust catfish.
And under no circumstances should you ever bring a manbag to a bro trip.
Go Together Life 
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