In September of 2017, while on my honeymoon in the beautiful city of Budapest, an idea for a story emerged into existence.
First, backstory to the advertised story’s origin:
Ashleigh and I endured an eight-hour bus ride from Wrocław, Poland to Budapest. Cramped and bit cranky, we finally made it to the capital of Hungary. We decided to overnight cheaply in a hostel that was subpar compared to the nice neighbourhood it was located in the city centre, near Deák Ferenc Square. So sub-for-par was this hostel that we spent the extra forints to frequent a multi-star hotel and its incredible breakfast buffet.
It was on one morning at this buffet, after a few too many mimosas, an idea for a story hatched.
After a bit of drinking, my mind tends to recall things I find funny. While I had stepped away to the restroom, my brain was replaying a funny occurrence which took place at the behest of these buffoons: Erik Jacobson, Bryant Ward, AJ Storms, and Jack Francis.
I chuckled audibly to myself after remembering that funny event. Then the phrase “laughter is the best medicine” popped into my mind. I thought of this often-overstated phrase for a moment and said to myself, “If that were true, I could live forever.”
In that moment, seeds of a story fell from the bag of universal truth and archetypes.
What if men and women COULD live forever because of laughter? What kind of world would that be?
This idea has been permeating in my brain and has bled out as notes onto countless loose leaf pieces of paper for the past two years.
I pestered Ash during our eight-hour bus ride back to Wrocław with this story idea. Her feedback and support encouraged me to carry this story forward to its in-progress and rough-around-the-edges version which I am presenting here in this untidy blog. The original concept of laughter or happiness perpetuating one’s life has remained steadfast in the midst of the oft-changing back and side stories.
Publishing the story in this manor (as individual chapters publicly posted online) is a way to further encourage me to get it out. The breadth of the story is lodged in my brain, but I need the discipline and the urgency brought forth by public exposure to get the story out on paper, no matter how choppy it may end up.
If you are still reading up to this point, I present to you And God Remembered Him.
Bonus: some photos of Budapest
