Lessons from 1872

In this episode, Lessons from 1872: Travel in the Age of No-WiFi . . .

Imagine having 80 days to explore the world, with no smartphones, no jet planes, and no money concerns. A thrilling thought, right? That’s the fantasy Jules Verne implies in his classic adventure, Around the World in 80 Days, and it's a question I've been pondering from my easy chair in Vista, California.

This week’s On the Fly, we're traveling back in time with one of the most thrilling literary adventures ever written. Early on, it’s clear this is Phileas Fogg’s story—a man of clocks and calculations, whose every move is measured. His journey isn’t about discovery, but a bet—a mathematical challenge involving money, schedules, and perfect timing.

But when you think he’s the engine of the story, someone else quietly steals the show. Meet Passepartout: The Heart of the Journey.

Jean Passepartout, Fogg’s new valet, is Fogg’s complete opposite. A former circus acrobat seeking a quiet life, he joins Fogg’s household hoping for nothing more than peace and stability. Instead, he's immediately thrown into the most unpredictable journey imaginable.

And here’s the twist: Passepartout is us.

Where Fogg embodies cold precision and detached logic, Passepartout is all heart—driven by emotion, curiosity, and spontaneity. He's the one who reacts to the world as we would, panicking, laughing, stumbling, and adapting along the way. He doesn’t merely travel across continents—he experiences them. In India, he gets drugged; in Hong Kong, he’s arrested; and he races wildly through customs halls. While Fogg stays unwaveringly focused on the goal, Passepartout is the one who truly lives the adventure.

"Monsieur is in a great hurry?” Says Passepartout.

"Yes, I have a wager to win."

— Passepartout & Fogg

Without Passepartout, this would be a timetable in book form. With him, it’s an odyssey full of charm, chaos, and humanity.

The Moment Everything Unravels . . .

Once again, everything unravels. Chapter 19 is the gut punch. Phileas Fogg and Passepartout race to catch the steamer to America via Yokohama from Hong Kong, a crucial part of their plan. But a quiet betrayal is already underway.

Detective Fix, convinced that Fogg is a fugitive bank robber, reaches Passepartout first by using clever tricks to drug and delay him. Passepartout, now lost in the city's chaos, cannot warn Fogg about the changed departure time. The ship—their carefully planned escape vessel—leaves the dock with Passepartout on board but without Fogg.

This isn't just a missed connection; it's the sudden, painful breakdown of an otherwise perfect plan. It highlights that even the most precise schedules can’t shield us from the unpredictable chaos of the world.

I could hear the ship’s horn fading into the distance, or maybe that was a distant truck's horn? Anyway, it was the gut punch of a missed opportunity. My entire journey teetered on collapse right along with theirs.

But what does Fogg do? He’s calm. He doesn’t break. He charters another vessel and adjusts his course. Cool as ever. “The journey isn’t over until I say it is,” his actions declare.

A Race Across a World That No Longer Exists

With modern air travel, it’s hard to imagine just how monumental this journey would have been in 1872. Back then, crossing the globe was a test of nerve, endurance, and luck. Steamers could be delayed. Trains might derail. An elephant might be your only hope through the jungles of India.

Today, you could replicate Fogg’s itinerary in about 45 to 50 hours of air travel. That’s right—two days. Six flights. Maybe one missed connection in Frankfurt. The planet has shrunk to the size of a long weekend.

But something has been lost in the speed. Verne’s world was slower but richer in mystery. Google the next port? Nope. You had to feel it under your feet, trust your instincts, and pray the wind was in your favor.

What makes this book so brilliant isn’t just the race—it’s the evolving sense of what matters.

Fogg may be the hero by title, but Passepartout is the one who changes, the one who truly experiences the world and reminds us how to feel again. It’s easy to admire Fogg’s determination. But it’s Passepartout’s wide-eyed wonder, his flawed, impulsive, loyal self, that makes the story worth reading.

I hear you, so why read it today?

Because in a world that feels smaller than ever, where we can fly across continents in hours, Verne reminds us that the most life-giving journeys aren’t always the fastest. They’re messy, unpredictable ones—the ones where you miss your connection, trust the wrong stranger, fall in love with a world you didn’t know you needed.

If you want a humorous, urgent, and heartfelt summer read, try Around the World in 80 Days. Pick it up and escape—whether you're in Vista, California, or elsewhere. See if Phileas Fogg makes it back to London on time.

And more importantly, let’s see what Passepartout and we, the hitchhikers, discover along the way.

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious, and remember—the best journeys aren't always found on a map. See you next time.

The Birth of a Cubs Legend

In this episode, The 162-Game Exhale — and the Birth of a Cubs Legend There’s a hush in the baseball world on Game 162 — a collective breath drawn in and slowly released. Scoreboards stop flipping. Dugouts empty. For six months, the game has been our steady heartbeat, pulsing from the cherry blossoms of Tokyo in March to the crisp, playoff-charged winds of late September. And now, as the regular season exhales, baseball fans everywhere pause to absorb the story we’ve just lived. For me, that story has been deeply personal. This season unfolded in the rhythms of my daily life. It was the summer soundtrack echoing beneath the constant turmoil of politics and sensational headlines. It was a handful of carefully chosen ballpark pilgrimages stitched together with countless nights in front of MLB.TV. And at the center of it all, for a lifelong Cubs fan like me, it revolved around one name — a young center fielder who turned hope into history: Pete Crow-Armstrong. The 2025 season didn’t begin...

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

The Pessimism Aversion Trap

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster. That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works. Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could downloa...

The Friday Morning Pause

In this episode, The Friday Morning Pause: When My Brother’s Bookshelf Called Me to Stillness We live in a world allergic to stillness. Our mornings begin mid-sprint—thumbs scrolling before our eyes even open. The impulse to jump into the digital chaos is immediate. But sometimes, stillness finds you . It was early Friday morning. We’d arrived late the night before, stepping into the cool air before the day turned hot. Half-awake, I reached for my phone—emails, headlines, social feeds waiting like a morning buffet of distraction. We were in Cuba. No Wi-Fi. No 5G. No password. Just stillness, disguised as inconvenience. Instead, I caught sight of something unexpected: a small stack of books on my brother’s TV shelf. My brother and his wife are powered by perpetual motion. They are the definition of overscheduled and overstimulated. Yet there it was: Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday, quietly mocking my scrolling habit. The irony was perfect. I put my phone down—a small, delibe...

On The Fly

Search This Blog