Last summer our church held a raffle for two free airline tickets to anywhere in the continental United States. R-T, unbeknownst to myself, purchased a couple of them, in hopes, perhaps, of heading off into the sunset with a non-techie beauty whose porcelain complexion had never been tainted by the glare of a computer screen. Then off we went on vacation to Chicago, where dearest R-T took a bad fall at a waterpark, and completely tore the tendons in his knee, requiring complete knee reconstruction surgery. So imagine the irony at receiving a call, on the last day of our vacation from Hades, informing us that we were the lucky winners of those coveted tickets!
Needless to say, R-T had a difficult time getting excited about our windfall. It is very difficult to convince a man who is enduring weekly torture at the hands of physical therapists that he ought to take yet another plunge into the big, wide, scary world beyond our hometown. Every news story seemed specifically designed to bolster his determination that vacations are only for the mentally disturbed or suicidal. Every week brought another report of a child who had lost a limb at an amusement park, a woman who had mauled at a zoo, or a surfer who became shark-bait. My prospects for a second honeymoon with my honey were looking pretty slim indeed.
But finally, after many months, R-T had healed enough to entertain the thought of venturing further than Home Depot. I started to get excited as visions of long romantic walks on the beach or moonlit helicopter tours over the city danced in my head. And then I made the fatal mistake of sharing my hopes with my hubby. Was I kidding??!! Leave our boys as orphans when our plane went down in the middle of the desert??!! Apparently, certain people’s travel phobias had taken on new life, and we were not only going to be maimed, but killed, just because we dared to confront the vacation gods.
So what about our free tickets, I gently inquired. R-T thought long and hard about this, and decided we should use the two free tickets, and then buy two more for the boys. Evidently, hubby’s neurosis had advanced to the point where he felt hunky-dory with the idea of us ALL going down in flames, just so long as we didn’t meet our fates separately. I decided to ignore the obvious flaws in his logic, and just be grateful that there was a family vacation some time in our immediate future.
You would think that our problems were over at this point, wouldn’t you? I mean, what could go wrong with two free plane tickets to anywhere in the lower 48, and the anticipation of seeing sites and places you had always hoped to see? I’ll tell you what can go wrong. How about a boatload of indecision? We are winding down to the point where we have to make some decisions about what we are going to do with the tickets. But, four different people going on vacation means four different opinions on where they should go. And from time to time, the discussions have been a bit – – shall we say – – lively. I’m for anywhere with sun and sand. R-T is a geology buff, and longs for the badlands of the great west. H-T is currently studying Langston Hughes, and is heart set on heading to somewhere “where people take jazz music seriously.” Uber is as fickle as a twelve year old girl dropped off at an all-boys’ school – – how about Baltimore, or Los Angeles would be cool, but New York City might be awesome, oh–I know–Seattle! We have two free plane tickets and not a concordant idea among us.
Who would have thought it would be such a pain to win two free plane tickets??!!