Evidence of it litters the house. First-aid kits, cans of bug spray, and sleeping bags all eager to come out of hibernation scurry out of high cabinets and dark basements to greet each other in unsightly piles in the living room. It broadcasts itself daily from a dry-erase calendar precariously hanging on the fridge with a showy proclamation of its power: "VACATION" accentuated with a long black arrow spanning seven vacant date boxes. The family vacation is among us, the countdown is ticking.
Like the Griswolds, this is an annual sojourn from the hurried pace of our daily lives. Months of saving and planning ensure fodder for photo albums and stories for decades (picture those last lines accompanied with flutes and birds in the background). This is where memories are made, god dammit, and you are going to enjoy this trip because I said so or I'll turn this car around right now. Stop whining, mom and dad are having a margarita and look at the sunset, NOW!
Like I was saying, family vacations are where memories are made, like the time my son ate a contaminated piece of cantaloupe off the Shoney's Big Boy buffet somewhere in the middle of Mississippi and developed explosive diarrhea day one of New Orleans' Jazz Fest. Trying to convince the cocaine snorting man in the bathroom we truly had more of an emergency, my son was developing a severe scrotum rash as we speak, I will never be able to forget. Or when I threw-up an entire fruit plate then covered it with my beach towel in the beautiful marble lobby of my parents'Cozumel time-share after attempting to consume all the duty-free tequila on the island the night before (I was 15 and ambitious). Or when my sister left the rest of the family in Ireland to chase the only (that I could see) six-foot-seven-east-African across the country on a bus. Yes, people these are memories.
So what if the expedition that drains your yearly savings or puts you back in debt after working all year to clear it ends in so called disaster. So what if it takes years to repair the delicate family dynamics a weeks worth of good vacationing can unravel--it makes us strong. Does anyone ever really say, "We shouldn't have spent that money on a vacation?" No, well maybe if your husband was killed in a tsunami or something, but as long as no real physical harm is done, even the bad vacations are absolutely worth it. Even when a Mexican business owner follows you home trying to convince you to have his love-child (Jesus Christo, merely hypothetical, por supuesto--but that's what I call immersing yourself in the culture). Load up the van, or validate the passport, it's vacation season!
Try taking a 13 month old breast feeder, two 75 year old in-laws, a 20 year old explorer and a crazy husband who insist on driving the rented van, but can't remember to stay on the left side of the road in the UK! Has any one heard of the term "round-a-bout"? You don't turn right, it's left! That was a FUN 17 days in Europe that I will never forget, and barely managed to live through.
ReplyDeleteThe husband's solution whenever the toddler whimpered......"Stick a tit in his mouth!" Never was quite sure if he was talking about the baby or himself!
Ah the memories of the family "vacations". St. Pete beach and third degree sunburns on Christian's sailboat, Edinburgh, VA and the "valley" cousins, Disney World and the "Small World After All", Opryland theme park in 100 degree weather where your 4 year old upchucks in her stroller, the cultural tour of Europe when your 8 year old's favorite memory is Munich's Bier Hall, Cozumel and the instant boy friend that followed my step-daughter home pledging eternal love that lasted 1 month. And what about the driving vacation to Clearwater for a week in the sister-in-law's condo; arriving just in time to pick her up from her out-patient face lift bandaged to resemble "The Mummy". Ah yes, the good ole days! How can one life contain so many memorable family vacations!
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