The story below is an excerpt from our July/August 2018 issue. For the rest of this story and more like it subscribe today, log in to read our digital edition or download our FREE iOS app. Thank you!
I’m going to let you in on a little secret about me. I’m not much of a vacation person. Oh sure, vacations sound so fantastic when you’re perusing the brochures. Pearlescent beaches, sunny weather, fruity libations, and not a care in the world to be had within 50 miles. Heaven on earth, just waiting for me. Well, me and my money. No cabana boy is going to fetch me a margarita without a hefty portion of my paycheck being handed over to the heaven-on-earth hotel and resort first.
That’s where they lose me. Yeah, I‘m sure the price of the experience is worth it to some people, but is it to me? Because when I think of the chore list I would have to work through just to get ready for vacation, I hyperventilate a little. Catching up on laundry so I could pack for seven days away is two weeks’ worth of work right there.
Then I’d have to choose someplace to go, which requires research into weather patterns, hurricane probabilities, exchange rates and police reports. I would have to lay in my medicines so I wouldn’t get caught short, but I need to swing by the drug store anyway since I’m out of sun screen, SPF 50 at least, and first aid supplies. Do I need to get any shots? When did I last have a tetanus booster?
Does the destination require air travel? I am no longer a fan of airplanes, or more accurately airports. I used to love airports. Used to hang out at Dulles sometimes on my days off because I could watch people reunite with their loved ones in Arrivals. There was just so much joy. Somehow, the airports seem a lot surlier these days, a lot less festive.