Thursday, April 17, 2014

How to not plan a dream vacation

This is not a real contest. Any resemblance to a real contest is purely coincidental.
If I could pick any vacation in the world, I’m not sure where I’d go. But if I had to plan one, and it was a life-or-death decision I had to make right this minute, this would be my dream vacation process of elimination:

  1. Must be close to home. As you know from {this} post, I have a slight flying problem. That kind of puts a kink into planning a fantasy jaunt to a new place.
  1. I already live near the beach, so squeezing myself into a swimsuit just to get sunburned on the beach in Hawaii isn't as exotic to me as it would be to someone in, say, land-locked Lebanon, Kansas. Plus, I’d have to fly there.
  1. I've lived in snowy mountains most of my life, so finagling my frozen feet into winter galoshes isn't as glamorous to me as it is to people who've never shoveled four feet of snow off a long, icy driveway. Like all 24 of those people living in Furnace Creek, California.
  1. I've even been out of the country a few times, which was great except you have to fly there (see the aforementioned quandary about flying).
  1. And camping? Let’s just say there’s nothing natural about spending the night out in Nature.

My husband’s idea of a dream vacation is wearing the same pair of nasty pants for a week while hauling all of his belongings on his back, shlumping his way through the five-million degree heat in the Grand Canyon. It doesn't even have to be the Grand Canyon. Anywhere that’s full of wild animals and poisonous plants and is also far away from doctors and civilization would work.

When we first got married, my husband wanted us to be a Backpacking Family (notice the capitol B.F. – that’s serious stuff.). He envisioned the two of us and our plucky young children looking exactly like the closing credits of The Sound of Music, enjoying mosquito bites and ticks and scary bears as we check out the world at the top of a cliff in the middle of Nature. Except we would most likely not be wearing lederhosen and dresses.

Because I don’t have a dream vacation of my own, that might just be what happens to us. I’ll be hauling cans of Spam up a steep cliff while my nasty pants are hiking by themselves in front of me. Knowing my pants, they would probably beat me to the top and I’d be left alone in the wilderness. Pantsless with my cans of Spam. In all that unnatural Nature.


But, hey, at least I wouldn't have to fly there (see the aforementioned quandary about flying). It might be a dream vacation after all.

2 comments:

  1. Love this post. And your flying one, too. Hope you occasionally find time to write your stories, Gaylene.

    I wanted to be a Backpacking Family, too. In theory. If there weren't any bears. And if the wilderness weren't so...um, wild. And terrifying. And the camping pads are never thick enough. And you never sleep because it's too scary to relieve yourself when there might be bears...

    Your flying experiences sound horrifying, too. You might try Dramamine. I find it takes care of both sickness and much of anxiety to be on drugs when you fly.

    This post made me smile :)

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    1. Thanks, Elena! I agree, I would love camping if I could nave a piece of nature in a bubble. Then I could still enjoy fresh air and trees and butterflies, but no wild animals or creepy bugs. It doesn't help when my husband tells me his actual near-death stories of bears and bugs, either.

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