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By Ken Hegan for The National Post My driver wants to kill me. It’s the only explanation. We’re speeding along a cliff in Costa del Sol, Spain, in a shiny new Porsche Panamera GTS sports car. He’s passing cars by inches. Palm trees whiz by like they’re running for safety. “I like to deep sea…
Take my card
By Ken Hegan The worst sleep I’ve ever had was in a Honda hatchback. In the months leading up to that brutal night, I was broke, newly separated, hemorrhaging money on a mortgage I couldn’t afford, and going insane from insomnia. I suddenly decided I had to flee Toronto. So I rented my loft to…
By Ken Hegan for The National Post I’m fixing my flawed life by following self-help gurus, spas, and treatments in the world’s most gorgeous, inspiring locations. This week: The Dead Sea! People say we’ll never have peace in the Middle East. But now that I’ve been to Israel, I know only one thing in life…
By Ken Hegan for The National Post So I’m in France to get goon-faced drunk while running a marathon through grape-strewn Bordeaux vineyards. Why not? I’m competing in the 27th annual Marathon du Medoc, a.k.a. The Drunken Marathon. The race is about to start and, though I’ve been to Carnival in Brazil and Mardi Gras…
By Ken Hegan for The National Post Eighteen months ago, my marriage fell apart so I fled to Jamaica to recover from the shock. I wanted to recuperate in sunshine, drink my volume in rum, and have a little Ken-time, or as I like to call it, “me-hab.” I reserved a resort in Portland Parish…
By Ken Hegan for The National Post So my marriage fell down and exploded, much like that darn greedy pigeon who gobbled too much rice at our wedding. Right away, my best friend Jim flew over to see me. He wanted to orchestrate my comeback. So he gave me a self-help book called The Maxims…
By Ken Hegan for The National Post I’m in a bar in Prague inside the ancient Hotel Neruda. It’s Sunday night, I’m painfully jet-lagged, and there’s a lunatic at the next table who’s flying into a rage. He’s a short bull of a man, about 60, wearing a red soccer jersey under a battered blazer,…
By Ken Hegan for The National Post In my twenties, I met a woman so beautiful, I rode a bus for 33 hours to Buenos Aires from Rio de Janeiro, in the hope I’d get to kiss her. Big mistake. When I got to her apartment, her live-in boyfriend answered the door. Surpriiiiise. I swore…
I’m riding VIA Rail’s Spa Train, billed as “The Route to Well-Being.” It’s a fun promotion where you ride trains between your choice of 18 Ontario spas. Judging by the other passengers, Spa Train is the perfect getaway for brides and bridesmaids to get smashed on rails, detox with herbal wet wraps, doze in the…
Ken Hegan 