A friend called me the other day with exciting news — she’s heading overseas. Because she’s a talented writer and an daring soul, she’s going to try and have some travel pieces published.

As I scrubbed the soap scum ring out of the bathtub, I thought about the adventures waiting for her in India and China —streets teeming with colors and the fragrances of incense, spices and perfumes overwhelming the senses.

A little envious, I wondered if I could ever write a travel stories to help travelers find their way safely through new places and discover treasures only those who live there know.

Then, I realized something —I’ve never been to exotic places like Madrid or Casablanca, but I have been to the grocery store.

Before you laugh, a trip to a suburban grocery store can often be filled with peril. Here’s how I might write this travel adventure:

“A trip to the market requires nerves of steel. Pacific Coast Highway drivers must watch for falling rocks, but travelers in the suburbs need to watch out for people texting while driving because avoiding their careless maneuvers is more dangerous than running with the bulls in Pamplona. Don’t park right next to the cart return area because teens love to stand 20 feet away from the metal bars and give shopping carts a shove to see if they can make it into the chute. They can’t. Your car will take the dent.”

Rinsing out the tub, I thought about going to an American mall. Maneuvering through freeway and highway traffic and then circling a crowded mall parking lot is a lot more intimidating than flying on an airplane.

Most of the time, once you slog your way through airport security, you get on a plane, sit in the same seat for hours watching back-to-back viewings of “Kung Fu Panda,” and then hop into a relative’s minivan or a taxi cab. The escapades of that chubby panda pale in comparison to driving to a mall here in Fort Bend County:

“Traveling safely to a mall is quite the adventure, especially when dodging orange construction cones, potholes the size of an elephant and bulldozers that unexpectedly back into traffic. Once you reach the mall parking lot, avoid the speed bumps as they will loosen the fillings from your teeth. Write down where you left your vehicle because Texas mall parking lots take up more space than the Aggies’ Kyle Field.”

Perhaps I could write a travel piece for people coming through this area. It’s not the same as sightseeing through the historic Charleston district, but we do have some noteworthy spots:

“Take Highway 90A from Houston into the city limits of Richmond, making sure one notices the historic Fort Bend County Courthouse. Stop for a quick lunch at one of the cozy eateries on Morton Street before heading into Rosenberg for a strawberry sno cone at Bob’s Taco Stand. Head south on Highway 36 and pull through at Schulze’s Restaurant for the sweetest Coke this side of the Brazos River.”

Okay, that’s nothing but food writing, but the highlight of most vacations is what and where we eat — that thick clam chowder in Boston, that fully dressed shrimp po boy down in the French Quarter or that spicy barbecue sandwich in Fort Worth.

I might not be able to write about dining on filet mignon in Paris or sampling a smooth gelato in Italy, but I do know some of the best joints to chow down right here in Fort Bend County.

Pass the barbecue sauce and some paper and a pen.

I think I’m at the start of something big.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.