When a much-anticipated educational trip we had booked many months ago was cancelled due to political unrest, my disappointment was intense.
Midwestern winters being what they are, however, it was out of the question to simply yield to circumstance. Besides, we had committed to traveling with friends, the pet care arrangements had been made, and the time was set aside. The unraveling of Plan A and the search for Plan B began.
In quick order, a cruise to an adjacent location was almost activated, but something did not feel quite right. We dragged our feet; then a volcano erupted! closing down part of the area we were to visit. Procrastination had saved us, but a suspicion (or more likely a superstition) surfaced. Was this trip somehow cursed?
Practicality coupled with expediency chased away our doubts. Desperate to resolve our dilemma, we agreed to do something that does not come naturally to us. We had eagerly anticipated a physically challenging, mind-bending adventure tour. Instead, we signed onto an all-American, tame vacation.
Our first two days were allotted to adjusting to a new time zone, plus visiting a couple of historic sights. The air was deliciously warm; the palm trees swayed in the breeze. Relaxation was right around the corner. What we had not planned to do was shop.
The loss of my luggage was not catastrophic, but we seemed to be following a pattern with this trip. After checking into our hotel, I convinced my husband that he needed to accompany me on this first adventure. Luckily, the store where most of the damage would be done featured a brilliant idea: a cocktail bar in the women’s department! Relieved to be excused from accompanying me, my husband moved into vacation mode.
Twenty-four hours later, my bags showed up from their own adventure, and our not-so-tame vacation began.
In the middle of the Pacific, we were in a completely new world. (c)