Notes of Travel, Pt. I

Tomorrow I bid fond farewell to Lady Liberty and my dear Dora and set sail for the savage, sun-scorched desert wastes of the Middle East. You make ask why am I venturing off to this far-off, backward land of bandits, genie-men and airborne carpets.

As it turns out I’m on assignment for the Interglobal Stock Food & Perforated Paper Company. You see, I’m advertising their product, Mr. Ham’s Wet-Cured Ham. But how do I prove to the public, that Mr. Ham’s Wet-Cured Ham is without a doubt the best ham-product on the market?

My idea was to trek off to obscure, misty vistas where they’ve never tasted ham and acquire their untainted opinion. For comparison, I’ve brought tins of our chief competitor, Lord Ham-Ham’s Wet-Cured Ham.

I chose the Middle East because I had heard that the Arabs didn’t eat ham. Why this is, I’m not sure. I’m not a man with the leisurely time for study - I’m a man of action like the great bike-chute aeronaut Charles H. Kabrich.

Anyway, next time you hear from me I’ll be in the City of the Sultans: Constantinople.