Fictional Journey Enthusiasts Pillows

Continue to follow the yellow brick road

Airlines

'What zip code are we in now?'

"If I'd known we'd be this long wandering the wilderness I would never have worn these heels."

"Don't you want to hear about the day I had?"

Recalculating

"Remember, it's the journey not the destination."

"Is that you nomad's answer to everything...ROAD TRIP?"

The Inn Keeper's Wife and Daughter taking care of the Don after being beaten and bruised.

Mom and Dad Really Lose It - 1/4 Mile.

The Finding Yourself Hour.

The Chicken of the North

For the last time, no, I have no wish to add a hotel to my odyssey. Why Odysseus didn't use a travel agent.

"London prepares for the arrival of Philly sports fans."

"When your father was your age, he saw a tiny spider in that cave and made a wee-wee in his pants."

Robinson Crusoe on the phone - "Big job. No problem, it'll be done by Friday."

Toll House Cookies Ahead.

Wrong shelf.

It's more about the journey for me!

'Honey, I'm popping next door to borrow a cup of sugar: See you in an hour or so...'

"Ed lives somewhere in the midwest and Jim settled out on the west coast, so I don't see them much anymore."

'We did have a book about the 'Bermuda triangle', but it mysteriously disappeared.'

Commuting with Sardinetrack - 'Coo, don't they pack us in?'

Noah performing X-ray security checks for the ark.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with fabulous new shoes!"

'Don't tell me! You're off to see the Wizard. Right?'

The Ferry

"The shoes."

"Forgot my keys."

Travel Agency. The novice photographers' club is planning a trip. Put them on the red-eye flight!

'Tourists bring in money ... and sometimes... Hong Kong flu!"

"I haven't the heart to tell him there's no such place as Shangri-La."

It's not the destination, but the journey that counts. Until you screw up. Then it's all about the destination.

Rudy, you can't meet with the Russians. It'll be a disaster of epic proportions. How so? What could possibly go wrong? There are always unintended consequences with Russia. It was summer of 1988. I was a teenager on a one-man goodwill tour across the Soviet Union. Just me, my Harley and my leather jacket ... that is, until I visited the Kremlin. Let's just say I rode the last few thousand miles of that journey with a beautiful older blonde named Irina clinging to my back. Her father Mikhail was

"Bob, you dope—you typed 'Esther Island' into the GPS."