My life and my plans have been much less easy to map out. I have had a difficult time finding my own way, let alone, my own road. And oddly enough I have had a much easier time planning out our journey. If I want to go to Colorado, Hawaii, or Iceland, Maps become second nature. I find great places to see, and maybe the planning is easy, because right by my side is Dave. Refining. He is always refining the way. That is what he does. I say, “Let’s take a road trip.” He suggests Colorado. I say, “I want to go on a hike or down by the river, “and he finds me Black Canyon of the Gunnison. Similarly, he tells me, “let’s stay in Grand Junction,” and I suggest the Fairfield Inn. “It has a high TripAdvisor Rating.” I tell him. And moments later, and after some online searching he suggests, “And we have two free Marriott nights.” This is our dance – Itineraries, plans, and compilations — whatever you want to call them. I like Mix-Tapes.
Earlier today, the boys and I found ourselves at at our favorite Vietnamese hole in the wall, Oh Mai, eating our Pho and Banh Mi with our friend, Emily. In between bites of Pork Vermicelli with coconut milk and Beef Brisket Pho, Emily paused and said, “Hey, we are going on a road trip.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Western Colorado.”
The occasion of her visit to my neck of the woods was to buy maps for that very trip. We talked about the deep, dark crevasse of Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, about Chaco Canyon National Historical Park, which hosts “the densest and most exceptional concentration of pueblos in the American Southwest,” and how it reminds her of Mese Verde National Monument. The boys and I insisted she consider taking her family tubing down the river in Durango.
Somewhere between comparing Colorado National Monument to the Grand Canyon and forgetting to tell her about the ginormous polygamous dwelling we saw the last time we drove east of Vernal, UT, Emily paused and said, “Beth, you know we are taking this trip because of you…” Ok. Probably not literally because of me, but when Emily and I stood in Rome’s Forum talking travel. I encourage, “Anyone can do it. And you don’t have to leave the United States.”
Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, Colorado
As we walked from ancient Roman sculptures to an early sunset view of the Coliseum, I continued regaling her with all sorts of information about our trip through Western Colorado. “We live in Utah, and Colorado is like this brother we ignore. Because we have so much in common, we never think to visit.”
Then fast forward to our yummy Oh Mai lunch. Emily liked what I had to say. And I am over the moon that my travel love conveyed. I am really excited for their epic adventure. They are ending with Moab, our beloved pièce de résistance. Take the Delicate Arch Hike. Find the Windows and hike all over them. When you leave, notice the setting sun on the most amazing red rock cliffs, and crazy rock formations. If you get a chance, go to Corona Arch. It is located outside Arches N.P. And when you are driving to Corona Arch, look for the sign that says, “Indian Petroglyphs.” Dude, you literally pull over, and up on the cliffs are all sorts of rock writing. And if you are not completely exhausted, please hike Negro Bill Canyon. Don’t stop half through. Bring lots of water and wear a ton of sunscreen. You must make it to the waterfall. I promise. You will not regret it. Travel well Emily, Nate, and Co.!
Itineraries. I spit them out without knowing I am spitting them out. And if Dave is nearby, which he often is, he will accessorize every road I suggest you take. We are your own Mix-Tape – if that makes any sense. Let me explain. It is our rhythm. I am sure you are not crying right now like I am. I am a big baby when it comes to Dave. And it is hilarious that my own thoughts regarding our cohesive itinerary making/suggesting are currently making misty! Nevertheless, they do.
Vatican City, Rome, Italy
Hey and PS, Emily and Nate, I cannot hear what you call your Mix-Tape. Of course I will leave you a suggestion knowing full well that you guys can do better: “Colorado, our Parallel Universe?”
Side Bar: Traveling through Eastern Utah and Western Colorado will give you the opportunity to visit many fee-based National Parks and Historic sites. Consider buying a National Parks Pass. The 2015 price for a National Park’s Pass is $80.
I am planning our next trip. It kind of goes without saying: I am always planning our next trip. What I am learning as I sit in this roadside Starbucks is that Spring is a hard time for deals. My laptop is plugged in. I am sitting at a very small table, which is next to Eli’s table, which is next to Kyle’s.
We (may) have two weeks to kill before moving into a place. Maybe we will fid a place sooner. We are thinking we will live in Utah for the summer. Wait! Hold up! I know I told you we had moved to San Francisco. We have. Then things happened. We are waiting for news, and in the meantime we are all sick of living in a hotel. Do you realize we have been living in a hotel since January 31? Ok. In truth, we spent the night at my friend Rachael’s, in Dallas on one night in January. Her home was a most lovely stopover on our way to Rome. Needless to say, our suitcases have been packed since January. We are all feeling rough around the edges, and I know it is time to take hold when I suggest simply buying new underwear or Neosporin instead of searching our storage unit for either.
We arrived in rainy, yes, rainy, Salt Lake City late last night. We decided to switch it up and try Salt Lake City’s new downtown Hyatt House. Ok, let me sidebar this post for a second. See, I would hope after staying nearly one hundred consecutive nights in a hotel that we would have learned a thing or two. And here is the most important thing I have learned. After checking in to any place, check the room out first before bringing in your luggage. So at 12:23 AM (give or take five minutes), Dave and I went up to the sixth floor of their “largest” room and immediately saw an issue. The SLC Hyatt House’s one bedroom suite (they call a suite) was no suite at all and had no bedroom. It was a room with a partial divider. Unlike the Emeryville Hyatt House (go Emeryville!) that actually has a true one bedroom (with a separate room and a door that closes), SLC’s Hyatt House completely phoned the one-bedroom. Boo! The very loud music coming from the neighbor’s room was only a secondary reason to exit the building. So with our luggage still in the car, we moved on.
Back in the St. George, Utah Starbucks and back seated at my tiny table, I realize that I have to pee. As I sit there with my full bladder, and look over at my boys, I think about homework on the road. We are all tired and I remember why. Up all night doing laundry. Our Las Vegas Vdara Executive Corner Suite was so large and fancy it had a washer and dryer in the room. Woot! Sure, the Euro-style dryer was a little confusing and took forever. Staying up all night long was totally worth it. I did not have to find a Laundromat.
I am starving. Sitting at my tiny Starbuck table I feel it. As my stomach growls, Eli announces, “I do not want to be here.” I ignore my hunger. I cannot see their laptops. I am not sure if I want to look. I distract myself with Award Travel. I am not having any luck. That happens. So I decide to check out the Points Guy. Dave was telling me just the other day that the Points Guy is sopopular that he 1. has a paid staff now, and 2. apparently makes enough money now that he doesn’t have to use points for hotel stays and just pays cash for really nice places. I log on to his site. Wow. I want to know how to leverage the points I already have. And because we have already signed up for the gazillion credit card deals out there, I am not finding any promising information.
My travel-search-focus is broken. I do not mind. Kyle asks me if I have read “Flatland.” Then he tells me he is reading the book for Biology. “Is it about flat worms in the flatland?” I ask. Later on Kyle asks Dave the same thing. Of course Dave knows that “Flatland” is about a two-dimensional world. When I answer Kyle, he rolls his eyes and stares blankly at me. I love this look, smile, and ask, “Are you giving me teen face?” Of course he is giving me teen face.
Eli wants to go to the car. This Starbucks is loud. I do not blame him. Instead I say, “Dude, this is your time to do homework.”
Maybe I can look into a Youtube channel. My marketing team (Kyle and Eli – hey, do not underestimate the perspective of the teen mind) keeps telling me I need one. I look over at Eli. He puts his headphones back on. I feel for my boys. Our life is disturbed for a reason. We are waiting for news on Dave’s company. Wait or no wait, I know that nothing about Kyle and Eli’s current school life is easy or convenient. I often ignore (cut them some slack) their iFunny and Youtube viewing. When the end of each week comes, they always manage to get their homework done.
As I sit here writing this post, watching my boys, and canceling out the loud coffee shop noises, I believe I have figured out how to set up a Youtube Channel. My Google account links to Youtube. I start setting up my account. I can’t! I am SO distracted by my HUNGER! I had to stop. I literally hear my stomach growl through my noise-canceling headphones. Dave bought the boys non-caffeine Frappuccinos for Frappuccino Happy Hour. They cannot be as hungry as I am.
Moments ago and after Wet-wiping our sticky, coffee-spill covered tables, Dave told me, “It is too loud!” His comment was enough. I stood up, walked around the tiny Starbucks, and found him another spot. As I called him over, of course I had to Wet-Wipe his new table too. Now he is in the back on a conference call. We persevere.
Wait. I see that the Youtube Channel is attached to my non-crazyus email account. I think that means I need to create a new account. Hungry people have done way more than what I am doing now. I will find a way. I must. I am embarrassed to tell you how easy it was. Eli has removed his headphones, and is staring at Kyle’s computer. I look at Kyle’s computer. OMG, he is actually doing homework. Eli yawns and whispers, “I want to go.” So do I. Instead I point him back toward his laptop. Dave taps me on the back. He is done with his call and ready to go. I ask him to wait. While Dave grabs his laptop bag, I ask the boys if they are doing homework. Kyle leans forward and says, “Mom, they are making me read a story I read in Seventh Grade.” He tells Dave then same thing. Dave taps my back again and puts his arm around me. “I am just trying to find one more thing and then we can go.” I say. At that Eli jumps and starts packing up his stuff. As he winds his cords, Dave wanders urgently through the store. I point my right arm in the direction to the bathroom. My hunger slows my brain. “Don’t get h’angry. Don’t get h’angry.” I think. I need to eat. Dave is now sitting down. Kyle announces, “I am not ready. I am in the middle of something.” Eli leans against the window. Dave looks at his laptop. I can only think of my desperately hungry stomach. I take a deep breath. I ask Dave to book us a hotel for tonight and to look for some end-of-May travel deals.
Just this morning I called my mom to check in. “We are in Salt Lake City.” I tell her. I am happy she is glad. “Hey, maybe I should write a memoir about these past three months.” I continue, “I mean, who is crazy enough to take their boys out of school, attempt to move to San Francisco, have the plan change and remain in a holding pattern this long?” Travel rocks. I am glad we yanked our boys out of school. Not knowing where we will land, however, is a little less delightful.
This is our vagabond life.
_____
Sidebar: The three most valuable smartphone apps for a roadtrip: Google Maps, Yelp, and GasBuddy. Gasbuddy is a crowdsourced record of how much gas costs at different stations. It’s easy to find a station selling gas for 10-12 cents lower than gas from stations a block away.
Sidebar: Don’t neglect your AAA discounts. In Utah, the ubiquitous Maverick gas station offers a 4 cent per gallon discount for swiping your AAA card at the pump. AAA is generally worth it for the hotel discounts alone, but this is icing on the cake. Check out your local AAA chapter’s website. There are other gas stations that offer discounts.
Sidebar: Starbucks has promotions, like the current 2 for 1 Frappuchino deal, and many of them are exclusive to Gold card members. You earn gold by buying 30 drinks within 12 months. The most lucrative gold perk is free refills on tea and brewed coffee. I often buy a green iced tea (Venti size for about $2.75) then refill it throughout the day. Once I’ve bought 12 teas, I get a free drink or food item. We usually spring for a sandwich ($5.95). So you spend $33 to get 36+ teas, and get a $6 sandwich for free. Not bad if you’re a green tea addict like I am.
Hyatt Regency Indian Wells Hospitality Suite Dining Room Table
I could talk about both – real life and Hyatt’’s Diamond Status, that is. Let me address dealing with our real life on the road first. Earlier today I received some unsettling news. I wish the yummy breakfast or the fact that the boys were finally sleeping in a room they were not sharing with their parents was enough. It wasn’t. I tried to push this news aside and to tell myself, “hey, we are at Disneyland. You have all the free Zen tea you can drink, because there is a Starbucks inside of this hotel.” Nope. My manipulations did not work either. Instead I decided I must face this unsettling information head on. I spent two hours on our hotel couch and another two in our hotel bathroom trying to make sense of it all. Somewhere between hour one and hour four I reminded myself, “just because you are on the road and having fun, life does not stop.” It didn’t and I did my best to address it. The cool thing about traveling during these moments is spaces are small, people are moving and time is limited. Take the time to address things and then remember to put them aside so you can enjoy the ride.
Now on to Hyatt’s Diamond Status: In the interest of full disclosure I can tell you that a perk of living in the same hotel for a very long time is that you will eventually achieve top-tier elite status. In particular, Hyatt’s top tier, Diamond, comes with some very appealing perks. I am still deciding if the emotional consequences of four people living in the same very small space to get the status was worth it. Yesterday, I thought the long Emeryville Hyatt House living was worth it in exchange for our very cool Anaheim Hyatt Regency stay. The free breakfast was awesome and our room upgrade rocked. Today I am on the fence.
Currently we are staying at the Hyatt Regency Indian Wells Golf Resort (Palm Springs). We do not golf, and are staying at a resort built around a very large golf course. Kyle keeps asking, “why do they build resorts based on such a boring sport?” Oh son, if you only new.
The Desk and Eli’s Sleeping Area
Currently I am sitting in chair in our hotel suite living room. And after starving all day (really, all afternoon), and then inhaling a most bizarre Whole Foods strawberry, chia seeds, almond and coconut milk pudding concoction, I really may puke. I am actually serious. I may literally (not figuratively) barf and I am hoping it is red. Here is why I am hoping I barf red. I think the Strawberry will help. See, after seeing the red barf picture my friend just posted on Facebook, and after witnessing a young girl vomit red all over Disneyland last night, I want to go three for three. So vomit you had better be red. Ew! And in my super pukey state, Eli keeps asking me stuff and more stuff: “Mom, come here. Mom, I need the password. Mom, where do I put my dirty clothes? Is this my allergy medicine? Mom!” I feel bad, because I keep grunting and then shooing him away. Poor teen. He has no idea his mom is about to puke. (by the way and later on, my stomach settled. There will be no three for three, at least, not tonight.)
Our hotel suite living room
Alas, as I sit in this very large hospitality suite I ponder our current reality. You see, one of the perks our Diamond status affords us is room upgrades. We also are entitled to Club Room access where available. I will let you know how the Club Room food is. And tonight we hit the crazy mother lode of room upgrades. If only they had upgraded us to the $1,000-something-or-othe-dollar-a-night villa [wink wink] – if only. And even without the villa upgrade, this particular room upgrade is something I am having a hard time processing. First, when I say large, I mean, really, really crazy huge! Regarding the décor, even though the room is circa 2000, it feels more circa 1986 in a fancy Ferris-Bueller’s-grandparents-sort-of-way. I feel the urge to make a highball, martini or smoke an unfiltered cigarette. Our crazy room contains glass coffee, end, and lamp tables, a giant wooden dining table, wooden furniture, vases in all shapes and sizes, a china cabinet, two desks, an office, yes, an office, complete with a computer that was quite fancy when it was new, two slightly gaudy bathrooms, two new television sets placed in old TV cabinets, all sorts of lights on set on dimmer switches, a make-up area between the bed and the bath. I love the space. I love all the chairs. I am mixed on the outdated-ness and disappointed with poor use of all of this space. For starters, we only have one bed. Yes. One bed! We have everything you COULD NOT imagine, enough space for a very large family, yet only one bed. Seems impractical, and we decided to give up our giant room and asked for a room with enough beds. To our surprise, when we asked to move to a room with enough beds, the girl giggled and said, “these are the only suite types we have.” I am not sure that is true, but that is what she said. We now have two rollaways. Eli’s is in the office and Kyle’s is behind the couch.
The Make-up Area on the Left
“Mom, you need to write about this place.” Kyle says. Now I am.
The third Diamond Perk is late check-out. I think this is my favorite perk. We do not have to exit the hotel until 4:00 PM. Tomorrow until 4:00 PM, we will bask in the grandeur of our room and maybe even enjoy a large meal at our huge dining room table. Perhaps I can get the outdated computer to work, or maybe even sit down while I apply my mascara in front of the oversized make-up mirror.
By the way our room is so big that when I scream for Dave he does not hear me. Wait. Maybe he doesn’t hear me because he does not understand lady voices [wink wink]. I love this man!
Moments later I hear Dave in the other room, “Oh there is a yoga matt here.”
Dave in our most awesome room
Sidebar: the Hyatt Diamond challenge (how we got fast tracked to diamond status) stay 12 nights in the next 60 days. You get diamond status for the rest of the year, plus 6000 bonus points. To get enrolled, you have to be sponsored by a hotel. The sales manager at the Hyatt House in Emeryville signed us up.
Sidebar: free tea refills at Starbucks with the Gold card
Sidebar: the perks of Hyatt diamond (as-available room upgrades, free club access or breakfast in hotels with no club, late checkout, bonus points, 4 guaranteed suite upgrades, various other perks at the discretion of the hotel, such as free parking.
Good thing we did not have any idea how the day would end when it began.
E and I at Toy Story Mania, Disneyland
“May the fourth be with you, Kyle.” I laugh and say out loud. Kyle and I are currently leaning against the wall of California Adventure’s Toy Story Mania ride while we wait for Dave and Eli. A sea of Star-Wars-shirt-wearing theme-park goers stream by, which of course prompts me to ask, “Kyle, doesn’t Disney own Star Wars?”
“Yeah.” He responds.
“I thought so.” I say.
And then I ask, “How do you spell, yeah?” (That is really where my thoughts went next and that is really what I asked him.) “Is it, “yah?” or is it, “yea?”
He turns his head toward my ear and slowly utters the letters, “y – e – a – h.”
We both laugh.
Stilling waiting and still overwhelmed with various Star Wars T’s, I still cannot see Dave or Eli. I know they are somewhere in that winy, long line. While thinking of our impending ride, which is basically a moving video game, I say, “Dad always wins Toy Story Mania, (and he did again today — twice).“
“Yes. Yes he does.” Kyle, not looking away from his phone, replies. And because Kyle is about a foot taller than me, once he does look up from all things iFunny, he can see Eli and Dave. ,”Hey look, they are way over there and are a half an hour away,” (more like ten minutes).
Wait. Let me back up. Moments ago Kyle and I walked to the California Screamin’ ride. We were supposed to meet Dave and Eli there. They ran ahead to get California Screamin’ Fast Passes. And after relieving myself I was relieved to hear that Dave and Eli had moved on and were waiting for us in the Toy Story Mania line. As Kyle and I walked to catch up, we both realized and then said out loud that we were a little nervous to let anyone know that we were at Disneyland — again. Truth is we go to Disneyland often, and here is why. We have Season Passes. A friend whose parents live in Southern California recommended buying them years ago. Season Passes cost the same (approximately) as paying full price for three days . This is our second round of Season Passes. And because we happen to be in LA, we thought we should use them before the Summer black out days are starting soon.
So today we are at Disneyland.
And moments before Kyle and I tried to find Eli and Dave at the Toy Story Mania ride, our Uber driver (dude wearing hipster glasses and getting a masters in English), dropped us off at the front entrance to Disneyland. As we neared the end of our trip, he sheepishly announced, “you are my first ride.”
To which Dave boldly responded, “You’ve done well.” To which I wanted Dave to say, “live long and prosper,” but that is a Star Trek colloquialism, not Star Wars, so really not appropriate for May the fourth, right? Instead Dave followed his uber-driver-you-have-done-well with a, “we will make sure to give you five stars.” And Dave quickly followed his fives-stars comment with, “We know how important the ratings are?” Yes. Ratings are what seem to drive humanity. Nevertheless, and kind of an aside, interestingly enough, $4.00 is the total we paid from our Hyatt Regency Garden Grove hotel to theDisneyland front gate. In contrast to the Disney Anaheim shuttle, which is $4.00 a person. And another complete aside, if you’re a Diamond at Hyatt, which we happen to be, because the Hyatt House Emeryville is the hotel we have been living at for enough days to qualify us for Diamond status, stay at the Hyatt Regency when you visit Disneyland. As they say, “we treat you like royalty,” and they mean it. Ask for Keyonna. She is delightful and wise. Be nice to her and I promise she will take care of you.
Back on track and now trying to undo the chain so we can stand with Dave and Eli, in the spirit of the day I hear, “Have you ever had a Wookie cookie?” I hear Dave and the boys laugh, and am too busy thumbing all these words into my tiny phone screen to look up. Then the answer, “They are kind of Chewie.” I am not sure if the additional laughter was true enjoyment or conciliatory, but the next words I heard were chastisement, and those words were directed toward me.
“Scotty relax!” I say in good fun to Scotty, the friendly Disney sweeper, who just chided me for texting instead of paying attention to his chain trick and accompanying joke. What he didn’t realize and why should he, is that I was actually writing his joke while he was telling his joke. “You missed it!” He hollered and then laughed.
We moved on and then I heard Dave announce, “Ok. Seven more minutes.”
“What? Of course!” I respond, because I assume Dave is using an iPhone app to estimate the line time.
“We will see how accurate the line estimate is?” Dave continues.
I turn around and as Dave (gently) swats Eli away, I ask, “Dave, is there a line estimate app?”
“Yes there is, but I have deleted it.” Dave responds.
“How are you estimating the line time?”
“The signs.” He says.
Eli places the yellow plastic pair of 3-D glasses on my head and continues to bump into me. Is it because I am not paying attention, looking down and typing feverishly into my phone? Probably.
We are almost at the front. Thank god Eli wants to ride with me. Dave will win. We all know he will win. Eli puts his arm around me and says, “I am going with mom.” Then he whispers into my ear, “then we can tell Dad you won.”
Somewhere along the way, the ride stops working and the targets for our silly, pull-the-string-to-shoot video game guns stop working.
Toy Story Re-Ride Passes
I tell the Disney lady and she hands us four “re-ride” passes. I am grateful for the do over and I begin to think of all the ways someone can game the system and why gaming the system really takes the joy out of freebies and do-overs. I think of the words I tell myself in these moments, “Be nice. Don’t take advantage. Don’t vulture. Don’t demand! And mostly, do not place the proverbial hair in your food to get a free meal. Bottom line. Do not act entitled and Do not be shameless. The end.”
Literally thinking about my hair-in-the-food metaphor reminds me to ask Dave, “Did you make a dinner reservation?”
“Oh no!” Dave says.
“What’s the restaurant called?” I ask.
“It’s the Cafe Orleans.” Dave responds as he opens the Disneyland website on his phone. We cannot got to Disneyland without Monte Cristos.
“You can tell them you are Gluten Free.” He contines.
“Really?” I ask.
As Dave makes his online reservation, I think of all the haters, and I want to say, “Sure, you can make fun of gluten free people like me. Alas, when you are really Celiac, or as I say, ‘not fake allergic,’ it is a relief knowing that people will accommodate. And in truth, it is awesome to be accommodating even if you are say, simply not in the mood to eat Gluten that day.” I am glad I could tell them gluten free in advance, and yes it made a difference.
Our day continues. We plan on being at Disneyland until 10 PM (like we always do). I sit by Dave for our Toy Story Mania re-ride. The game ends with Dave winning, and me saying, “You’ve never gotten the beaver?” To which Dave says, “I always get the beaver. Sometime I get the cat.”
Selfies on our way to Space Mountain
We find ourselves in Disneyland. In truth we started our day in California Adventure. And as Kyle and I find ourselves walking side by side again from behind we hear, “This is longer than I would wait for a Dole Whip.”Those are the words uttered by the hipster dude behind us, and he says them as he eyes both our Dole Whip and the super long Dole Whip line to our left. Kyle and I laugh. We laugh because we know.
“This is longer than we would wait too.” See, the quickest way to through Dole Whip line is always going in to the Tiki Room turn-style entrance. Outside of the turn-style you may wait thirty minutes, while inside you wait five. You don’t have to watch the show. It is simply another line to the yummy Dole Whip deliciousness.
Ok at this point in our Disneyland day I want our story to continue. We just finished both the Winnie and the Indian Jones rides. I could tell you how hilarious it was to ride that very slow paced Winnie-the-Pooh ride that scared the something out of both boys years ago. And I could tell you about trying to find Dave in the Indiana Jones line. He was racing back from getting Space Mountain Fast Passes. I could tell you how helpful the Disney folks were in reconnecting Dave to us, but I won’t.
Alas, moments after we left the Indiana Jones ride, and did not think twice that Dave was unable to get Space Mountain Fast Passes, we arrived at Thunder Mountain Railroad. The dude said, “this ride is closed.” We thought, “Oh no. Not another broken ride.” And then happily we worked our way over to Tomorrowland, snapping a billion selfies along the way. If we must, we were ready to wait in the long Space Mountain ride. As we walked up to the Tea Cups, a ride we always ride (even though it makes poor Dave sea sick — what a good sport), we heard, “Disneyland will be closed in five minutes,” or was it ten minutes? Regardless, and whatever, when does Disneyland close at 7:30 PM? And why didn’t the many friendly Disney folks warn us? Planet Disneyland was running at full-speed and then it came to a crashing halt.
Disneyland. I am not buying your, “We-only-stay-open-for-spring-breakers excuse. In the future and be warned. Check the hours before going to the park.
We are not famous! We are not rock stars! My sons are not the Jonas Brothers, and thank God neither one of them is a Bieber! I often wish they did, but alas, my boys do not have private tutors, those tutors that often seem provided to children of rock stars, rock star children, and famous people! We are the Adams Family. And my children are the sons of high tech entrepreneurs. Gah!
Today’s point is pretty straightforward:
Doing Homework on the road sucks!
More specifically, trying to accomplish any kind of schoolwork, appointment making, or responsible adult behavior during a transition (rock-star-living [wink wink]/move/extended travel/homelessness) is complicated, at best.
Let me expound, or better, clarify. Because I mentioned the limbo-ness of our limbo in my last crazyus.com post, some of you may already know that we are in limbo. Yes, we are also in limbo and yes, limbo also sucks, and our current limbo also requires us to do homework on the road. Additionally, doing homework on the road has given us the opportunity to learn (at a cellular level) how much our internet-home-school literally (ok, not literally), is crushing our soul! And it does, in this crazy, everyday-bi-polar-roller-coaster-of-emotions – crush our souls, that is.
High fives to every homeschooler and homeschooling parent out there! Really! My hat is sincerely off to you! The boys do not like online school (an understatement)! And I am not a fan.
The Boys Making Paper Airplanes From Our Current Hotel Room
Every single online-school-day is met with a litany of “why I cannot do my homework today” soliloquies (really, dramatic monologues). “No, Eli! We do not have a dog! And he did not eat your homework!”
“Start what, Kyle?”
“MY HOMEWORK! Mom. Seriously! Your breathing is so loud! M’AH’OM, STOP breathing! [insert Kyle’s own exasperated breathing and eye roll here] Fine! [slams laptop closed] Now I am going to have to start all over again!”
“[insert my own deep breath here] Kyle, I appreciate your need to get yourself [air quotes] in the perfect space [end air quotes]. I hear you. Consequently, I acknowledge that the indisputable fact that I am alive and breathing most definitely interrupts, better ruins, your perfect homework space. That being said, all is not lost. Rest assured, my firstborn son! You can still do your homework. Kyle, count to ten and breathe. Here is a snack and some nose plugs. Put on your headphones and start your homework NOW, damn it (and yes, I probably said, damn it at least once or twice)!”
Thankfully Kyle finds his happy place almost every time, and begins.
Once he’s settled, I put on my headphones, turn the music up loud and race to open my laptop. I have homework to do as well. I login to my class and find the day’s assignment. As I begin to read I hear a shrieking,
“Eli. Eli! Stop. Give me my phone back! Eli! My phone!”
As if our hotel room has now become a boxing ring, I command, “Boys. Boys. Back to your places!” Completely ignoring me now the punches fly, the shrieks are now shrill, and are coming from Eli,
“K Y L E, I think you broke my neck! Mom! Mom! I cannot do my homework! I think Kyle broke my neck. Look. You don’t want to look. I know you don’t want to look. I am going to bed!”
Eli stomps off. I take my headphones off, breathe in, and in my head I repeatedly quote the Biblical phrase, “there is a time and a season…” I tell myself, “Beth, this is the time to help your boys. They need you. Your school will wait.”
I let go and breathe. I think about personal growth and imagine the most awesome TED Talk I could give after all of this. Ha ha!
Another day passes. Ultimately, the week’s homework is crammed in on a Sunday evening.
And today, a Monday, I ask my boys how they like online school. “Do you want the truth?”
“Yes.” I say.
They both respond with an emphatic, “No, we do not like online school.”
Moments later and as he throws paper airplanes made out of hotel stationary, Kyle responds and I quote,“ I will deal with the [online school] homework because of our situation and I love our family.”
Kyle leaves the room to take a shower, clear his head, and relocate his perfect space.
Eli asks, “Mom, Mom. Can I take my break now? It has been forty-five minutes to an hour since I asked last time.”
“Yes and you took a lot of breaks during that time.” I respond.
“Oh. Ok, do you want me to work a little longer?”
“Yes.”
Then Eli walks over and gives me a hug and goes back to work.
Every single day this is our routine.
Today. Waiting in the Lobby While Our Hotel Room Is Cleaned
Our school is good. It is an online charter school. The boys have a different teacher for each class. They can take honors classes and are knocking off crappy high school requirements, which they would equally hate taking at a traditional school.
Recently (since January 31, 2015, to be specific), limbo means that our family lives in a hotel. And the hotel has been in some very cool places like Rome, Barcelona, Collioure, Carcassonne, and Toulouse, France, Emeryville, CA, Murray, UT and in a few days, Moab.
We did not simply end up here in four months. See, way back when Dave took this San Francisco-based job (nearly three years ago), we assumed we would simply pick up and move to San Francisco. Because of the fluidity and unpredictability of start-ups our San Francisco move did not immediately happen and is still up in the air. At first, we continued living in Park City. Dave continued commuting to San Francisco during the week. The boys continued attending school in Salt Lake City (a half hour drive from Park City). And I continued driving them there each day. A little over a year into Dave’s new job, I decided it was high time to finish my last semester of college. I enrolled in school, which started this crazy daily commute. Once I dropped the boys off in Salt Lake City, I drove myself to Provo, and then sat in classes with lovely college kids much younger than myself. After class I raced back to Salt Lake City, pick up Eli just as his school was ending, then race over to Kyle’s school, and we would head back to Park City. It was much easier when we moved and the commute was Salt Lake City to Provo for classes.
Kyle’s Journal Assignment For Art Class
As far as online school goes, however, soul-crushing is not an over exaggeration. And here is the soul-crushing online school I am referring to. I completed four other college classes already. I have two classes left. My senior seminar class is already done. It was a class about Critical Theory of the Memoir. It was a most awesome perfectly suited Beth class. I’ve learned about poetry, how to write critical literary theory, and how to rock a survey British Literature class, and was scheduled to graduate on April 24, 2015, which also happens to be my birthday. How cool would it have been for me to finally graduate and for me to also graduate on my birthday? Insert every kitschy-cliché here, because, yes, a super awesome gift graduating on my birthday would have been! Consequently, I do not feel special. I feel weird. I have these two classes left hanging over my head.
Because we are all limbo-like, I opted to finish these last two classes online. I have not started them. April 24 is ten days away. I will not graduate on my birthday, and yes, I am having a hard time holding my head high. I think of holding my head high and it keeps trying to fall. I think about my boys. They are my world. I think about how hard this transition is for them. I am proud that they are suffering through all of this online school business. And it warms my cold dark heart when Kyle offers a, “I do it because I love my family.” I get misty every time Eli walks over and says, “I think you need a hug.” Just like Kyle, I love my family. I want to graduate and am sorry that I let one semester of college hang over my head for so long. I have repaired a lot of damage by going back to school. Just the act of cleaning up my bad grades, getting myself readmitted to school and completing four other classes has healed big parts of who I am. I went back to school because I want to show my boys that yes, even old ladies can finish what they start. As they watched me drive from Park City to Salt Lake City then down to Provo and back before we moved, maybe some of my tenacity rubbed off. Maybe facing my own past will help them face online school now. I hope so. I know our unpredictable life is not so common. I also know that I would not have it any other way. Limbo life is weird.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015, I traveled, along with Kyle, Eli, and my lovely and long-time friend Emily, from Rome to Barcelona, landing of course in Barcelona’s El Prat Airport. We flew a low-cost European carrier, Iberian owned, Vueling Airlines. As my boys correct me, “Mom, it is Welling, not Vueling,” I picture myself in a SNL sketch dressed as a circa 1983 lip-glossed flight attendant, with an Eastern-European-looking fur hat firmly attached to my big 1980’s hair. In my mind, I begin speaking, and as the words escape, earnestly I replace the v’s with w’s. “Thank you for flying, “Welling.” I giggle out loud as I imagine my arms waving. Directing passengers to their seats I continue, “We are wery happy you are flying with us.” Smacking my lip-glossed lips together I conclude, “Buckle up! Now we fly you to wisit your willage. Ahoy!”
Dave, Kyle, Eli and I travel as much as possible. I have mentioned our travel addiction so many times before. When we are not day tripping, we are road tripping, and when we are not road tripping, we are flying. I am often asked “are you ever home?” And honestly, I do not know how to respond. When I do (depending on my mood), I answer with a warm laugh, maybe an eye roll, or by uttering the familiar cliché, “home is where the heart is.” In all seriousness, that is what I believe. My home is wherever Dave and the boys happen to be. Our life is nuts. It always has been. A life of travel compliments our insanity, and consequently our money, credit card points, and every free second is directed toward adventure. Most importantly, travel pushes us out of our familiar and constantly teaches us how to flexibly bob, weave, and adjust to our unpredictable everyday. We are currently living in a San Francisco Bay area hotel, by the way. Our car was broken into two days ago. Bobbing and weaving is what we do.
European travel is my current favorite. Our trip to Rome, Barcelona and Southern France is our third trip to Europe in thirteen months.
Here is how we made this trip happen. We were flying to Europe on American Airlines miles. I could get us to Rome, but not fly us out of Rome. Last time we were in Rome, we flew out of Milan, but this time, after working the Award-Miles system, I found that there were no flights out of Milan. Instead, I found that we could fly out of either Barcelona or Paris. I am not a fan of gloomy weather, and I knew Paris in February was cold, wet and dark. I knew Barcelona was at least ten degrees warmer and sits on the sea. We also wanted to hit the road once Dave arrived midway through our journey. I knew if Paris was anything like London, and I have been told it is, that it would be hard to get out of Paris by car. Plus, we were traveling right after the Charlie Hebdo attack. I knew my mom wanted to know we would be safe, meaning she wanted to know that we would avoid Paris. I opted for the warmer weather, easier access, and my mom’s peace of mind. It was that simple – a dice roll of pros and cons.
Flying between European countries is most economical, even cheaper and faster than taking the train (sorry to burst your bubble, Europass-backpack-romantics). Using online forums, research, and now our personal experience, I have deduced that low-cost European carriers are the best way to get from point A to point B, if not the only way. Most of the low-cost carriers are owned by larger airlines. Vueling is owned by the Spain-run Iberian Airlines. Lufthansa owns Germanwings, and if a major airline does not own a low-cost carrier, and you buy your ticket through major airline, you will most likely be flown on a low-cost carrier regardless. Along with Vueling, we have flown intra-Europe on EasyJet, Flybe, and British Airways. In truth, I didn’t see much difference between British Airways and EasyJet. Meaning on all of these airlines if you want any food or beverage, you pay for them. It seems like today on both low-cost and major airlines the flight attendants operate like sales associates, advertising their goods the entire flight, even trying to sell the passengers jewelry. Yes, jewelry.
Our Rome to Barcelona travel day was typical, which meant I would insist on early airport arrival. And here is how I would get us to the airport on time. First, I would not sleep the night before (not a wink). I would also pack the night before (and re-packed the next morning). I would set my alarm to go off at two separate times (3:30 am and 3:45 am – done). I wake up before my alarm goes off (I did), only to have it go off while I was in the shower (that happened). I would second-guess my steps (always), and thus to help me unravel my second-guessing, I would constantly Skype my travel agent, Dave (done, did, and photo verification included here). Dave is a most awesome Skype back-up, by the way. I would triple check everywhere and everyone (just ask). “Where are our boarding passes and passports?” I exclaimed! To which the boys would answer, “Mom. Look, See. They are in your hand.” Travel days never get easier.
Skype-ing with Big Daddy
I wanted my boys to feel safe, even though I was utterly confused (on the inside). I arranged for a car to pick us up, which is a big deal, because I make my boys walk everywhere, or take public transportation. At 6:55 am our car arrived, and we said goodbye to Rome, the place I like to call Disneyland-town, Italy. We drove through the city reminiscing about what a great trip it had been. Let me add this travel tip: if you need a travel companion, may I suggest my friend, Emily. Not only does she know her way around a map, she is not afraid to talk to strangers, to ask for directions, or to laugh with a group of nuns. She can disarm a meltdown-y child, or children, as the case may be: “Hey Eli, if I am your favorite jerk, I know it means that I am part of the family.” Best part is Emily is absolutely no drama. She did not impose a strange PMS regimen on us. We did not have to give her space to be sad, or figure out any of her moods, for that matter, because she wasn’t moody. She did not demand. She did not boss. She did not dominate, and we did not have watch her drink herself into a stupor. She laughed when I swore, and I swore a lot. “Swear more if it helps.” She urged. She walked because we like to walk (I think she does too), and she ate gelato everyday without complaint. High fives to you, Emily! You will always be our Amelie [smooch]!
We arrived at the Rome Airport earlier than we needed to. We checked in our luggage, which was not necessary, even though all the online forums insisted it was. We found our way through security where I noticed we lost Emily. I looked back to see her luggage being searched. And here is another reason our travel companion rocks. “Did they take anything?” I asked as she walked back up to us. “No. They let me keep all of it.” And by all, Emily meant everything that we had left back in our Rome refrigerator. Eli heartily supports my claim as he relays the story to Dave, “Dad, she cleaned our refrigerator out.” She had a stick of butter, a half a bottle (way more than 3 ounces) of the yummy balsamic syrup, some yogurts, maybe a loaf of bread, and a selection of fruit. “Airport Security did not take any of it?” I exclaim!
Circled in green is the infamous Balsamic Syrup
Time to get on our plane came. We were exhausted. The line was long. Emily and I stood there while the boys sat close by. Emily and I talked about how we met all those years ago. Even though we were in college at the same time, our friendship began because we both worked as writers in high tech. We talked about the first Los Angles-based Internet World we were at together. “Remember when we sat in the hall talking?” “Yes. Vaguely.” Emily responded. “I was pregnant with Kyle and I did not know it. The only odd thing was I could not stop eating Lucky Charms.” We laughed. The boys were standing with us again. The line moved along. We gave the gate agent our boarding passes and accompanying passports. We were moved to a shuttle bus, not a plane. What? On the shuttle bus we held onto our remaining luggage and waited. Finally, they drove us to our plane. By the time we boarded our Vueling Airbus A320, the boys were literally punching each other as I simultaneously whisper-shouted (ah, the whisper-shout, a trick of all moms. I was probably death-gripping at least one of their wrists too), “Stop it! Stop!” We saw the plane was not as full as they told us it would be and thank God. I took this opportunity and quickly I pointed to one side of the aisle, “Kyle, stop talking. Sit by the window. Now! Move.” Pointing at the opposite window in the same aisle I urged, “Eli, stay. Stay by that window and do not talk! Look out the window and shut your mouth!” Both boys complied. Emily and I first say next to each other, and with the extra room, she moved next to Kyle so that we were positioned in the aisle seats across from each other. We took in a deep breath and then ate an apple from Emily’s refrigerator stash. In seconds I heard snores from a sleeping Eli, and Emily and I continued to reminisce.
Our flight was quick and uneventful.
Before Emily moved to her aisle seat. Rome to Barcelona, February 2015A Sleeping Easy E
Life, choices, perspective, chance, are all words I have been thinking about today. I also keep asking myself, “Should I be afraid? Should I stop flying?”
Just over a month ago I stood in Barcelona’s El Prat Airport. Dave’s return flight took him from El Prat through Germany. He flew Lufthansa Airlines. I wonder about these 149 people, 149 people who had their choice taken from them. I am certain they could replace the words I have written here with their own. I am sure they could tell you what it is like to travel from Northern Virginia to Europe, or what it is like to be a foreign exchange student from Germany. I wonder if they thought the Barcelona airport was as weird as I did with its two very separate terminals. Did they use the same bathroom? Did they fall for the trick we had? And by trick I am referring to the signs that direct you past all of the stores instead of the exit? Did they find the “free” airport internet as annoying as I did? I am sure they were on Facebook, and I am certain they called a loved one to say goodbye, or “I will see you soon.” Did they need to spend their remaining Euros like Emily did? She bought a shirt for herself and her daughter at the airport Desigual store. Were they nervous like I get? Or was flying easy? As many planes as I have flown in, as much turbulence as I have felt, I cannot imagine what it would be like to know that I was going to die. I can’t imagine the pain of those they left behind. I do not know them. I do not know the 149 people who died on Germanwings Flight 9525. The closest I can come to knowing them is our shared experience. Meaning I know the El Prat airport and I know that type of plane. These people were living their lives. They were setting their alarms once and maybe twice. They were late. They were early. They had dreams. They had bad days and good. I am sure of that. I have no words for them except to say that I am sorry your days were taken. I am so sorry your choice was removed, and I am very sorry you had to be afraid. No one deserves to die like you did.
One of the reasons I went to Barcelona instead of Paris is because I wanted to assure my mom that we would be safe. And we would be safe because we would be far away from the Charlie Hebdo attacks. It is a false sense of safety, I know. None of it makes sense. The Charlie Hebdo cartoonists had their choice taken away too. Even though there had been threats, and they had security, I bet the Charlie Hebdo people thought they were safe when they went to work that day. My guess is that these 149 people did not have to think about whether they were safer than the Charlie Hebdo cartoonists. They did not have to because facts and logic would tell us all that they were safer than an outspoken political cartoonist. I do not know what to do with this information. Processing it hurts my head. If I look at it one way, it would seem that none of us are safe. Another reality is that none of us should stop living.
My mom recently told me that she is afraid to fly over the ocean. I told her that I share her same fear. I also said that I make myself breathe past it. “Mom, every time I fly I am afraid. Instead of checking out or giving into the fear, I make myself pay attention. I listen to the flight attendants. I locate the exit doors, and then I remind myself that some things are out of my control.” I buckle my seatbelt, grab the hand of “my closest” family member, the engines rev up, the plane begins to move and it takes off. All the while I remind myself to breathe.
Vueling Literature
It is not easy. Meaning, not being afraid is not easy for me. How I move past my fear is this. If I remain afraid, I remind myself that I will not move forward. If I let my fear of flying take over, for instance, I would not have seen what I have seen. I would have never stood inside the Coliseum. I would have never been able to drive the crazy Amalfi Coast road. I would have never seen a sea turtle on a Kauai beach, or ridden on a Hong Kong funicular railroad. The Cliffs of Mohr would be a postcard image, and Carcassonne would simply remain a board game my boys love to play. I most certainly would not have seen my dear friend try and then get a half-full bottle of balsamic syrup through the Rome airport security. And most importantly, I would not know how well my boys, Dave and I do wherever we are. I would not know that you fight everywhere. You get tired everywhere. People are mean everywhere and people are also awesome everywhere. I know life happens. I know accidents happen, and if I had refused to get on an airplane, or push myself out of my comfortable, I would not know a life different than my own.
Me Driving the Amalfi Coast. How crazy is that?
And really, maybe that is why I travel. I want to see beyond myself and I do not want to be afraid.
I only wish being fearless and pushing personal boundaries would cancel out the fact that we also live in a world where some of the really bad and preventable things happen because of someone else’s terrible and irrevocable choices.
