VACATION I

Family Vacations








With my son Jon now in his second year of college and him working all summer in Michigan my wife realized that we had indeed lost him. Once that became apparent she announced that as long as he would go with us we would now be going on family vacations. Our family vacations for the past 10 years had been up at a family camp in northern Michigan which has been an awesome place for our family. Still, other then a few trips to Florida to stay in the in-laws condo and go to Disney World (I believe all theme parks to be stationed in the 6th ring of hell) we do not “travel” as a family. Jon and I have taken trips to see concerts out of town and Sandy has taken Pat to NYC to see plays but no family stuff or at least not much.
Originally we were going to go to Mexico because that is where I wanted to go. My parents used to take me there on a an annual basis and I thought a little shift in culture would be a good parenting thing to do but as the planning progressed and the motives were thunk out a little more it became clear that my only agenda was going to the ocean and that Mexico would just be a hassle for my closeted midwestern kids. That having been said my wife rented us a condo in Oceanside north of San Diego. We are doing this during Jon’s Thanksgiving break and I am going to be out of town for the first Thanksgiving of my adult life.

I love Thanksgiving. It is friends and family and food, the three f’s (there is a fourth but it is inappropriate.) I really like being in my town. Sitting in the house Wednesday night and knowing tomorrow will be a day of a little leaf raking and a lot of food. Two turkey dinners with all the trimmings is always the goal and I like to have either my wife or mother cook at least one of them because... that is the way I like it. I have become somewhat of a nazi regarding these rituals and can tell from the looks of my siblings, their spouses, my parents and others that I have stepped over the line from eccentric to extremely annoying. Sorry I guess but I really am not. I like Thanksgiving and I like the ritual.

We plan on having dinner at our friends the Tiemann’s. Since they were nice enough to let us invite ourselves I have taken the liberty of inviting everyone else I know on the west coast. That only amount to 5 or 6 people but two of them are showing up. They are friends from Michigan and it will be sweet to see them. Out host Tim has promised me a tofu turkey and has said he will shape at least a piece of it into a drumstick. It sounds hideous. I hope he does it, not so I can eat it but just so I have something to feed my fevered nightmares regarding what NOT to do at Thanksgiving.

On the night prior to our leaving my son arrived home from college at about 8 and we had pizza. despite just seeing him a few weeks ago my heart stops momentarily as I see him and even as I cooly say hello in a nonchalant manor and take one of his traveling companions home my heart aches for the boy and I am so happy to have him close at hand that even I cannot believe it. We scarf the pizza down and are briefly, if loudly and stupidly a family again. Then we scatter about the house to pack and organize, my wife beginning a controlled nervous breakdown timed to get the myriad of things involved with us leaving town all miraculously. mysteriously and unappreciated by her family completed at the exact moment we will walk out the door in the morning. I lay some clothes out, respond to some emails on Facebook, shower, read and go to bed.

My children amaze me. three teenagers they all get up at 5:30 and are all showered, fed something and ready to go by 6 and we trundle out the door, throw the bags in the mini-van and head for the airport. We hit the Southwest terminal and get through security, get some Starbucks and wait. I always insist on arriving at least an hour early. I have never missed a flight but I wait a lot. But soon they board us. Southwest, the Greyhound of the air has a new boarding policy and because my wife remembered to check us in the night before we are all in the first 35 people and have our pick of the sits. I head for the exit row where I know I have more leg room explaining to the stewardess that we have 5 people and it will be perfect. She admonishes me that if any are under 15 we cannot sit there and when she asks my daughter if she is fifteen I nod making eye contact for her to lie and heartbreakingly she tells the truth. As they move and I start to sit down she tells me that if i am a parent of anyone under 15 on the flight I cannot sit there either. I grudgingly move this manifest injustice ruining my entire life.

Flying is no fun anymore for me. It all seems stressful. The kids are jovial though and that makes it better. Our flight to Burbank goes the Albuquerque and Las Vegas so we have two annoying stops to sit on the plane. My daughter explains that we need to “upgrade” our seats which means moving to the front. Once again grudgingly I follow. It seems to take a long time to unload and load and Sandy points out that we will be on this plane for 6 hours and suddenly it becomes hard for me to breathe. No one cares.

We hit Burbank and got the bags. That was the first start for L.A. traffic. Seriously... how do people live here. We need to go about 30 miles to Valencia and it takes 45 minutes. Over the course of our time in California I would drive about 600 miles. Normally that would take me about 10 hours since it was all on Interstate Highways but not in California and especially L.A. where at 7:00 on a Sunday you can spend an hour to go 10 miles for no reason anyone can see. It is sixth ring of hell type stuff.