The Tragic Downfall of National Geographic
<p>I loved my basement as a kid. The cool concrete floors, the drop-of-a-pin silence, the old mangey couch cushions that could turn a drab room into a harrowing fortress adventure — it was a grand escape.</p>
<p>But my favorite thing was the boxes full of hundreds of old National Geographic magazines my grandmother had gifted us.</p>
<p>Spanning decades of issues and thousands of topics, it was my version of Ali Baba’s cave, laden with treasures of untold stories, breathtaking photos, and intriguing facts.</p>
<p>These magazines became my travel companions, my history teachers, and my watershed of a lifelong thirst for knowledge.</p>
<p>It’s no wonder I ended up moving across the ocean to explore the world in my young adulthood — I had to <em>experience</em> what I saw.</p>
<p>Even a few years later when I had the mostly awesome perk of jet-setting around the world for work, this little magazine found its way back to me.</p>
<p>Anytime I had to take a business flight, I had two main things I needed to do:</p>
<p><a href="https://medium.com/bouncin-and-behavin-blogs/the-tragic-downfall-of-national-geographic-e0547bbbda90"><strong>Visit Now</strong></a></p>