Donʼt Eat the Sushi (and Other Lessons from Vacation)
2006; Lippincott Williams & Wilkins; Volume: 28; Issue: 6 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1097/00132981-200606000-00013
ISSN1552-3624
Autores Tópico(s)Global Maritime and Colonial Histories
ResumoFigureWe took a family trip for spring break. Before I left, there were at least 50 little things I needed to do. There were e-mails to answer, forms to fill out, business questions to attend to, and columns to write. As they loomed, swirling over my head, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I ignored them all, picked some books to read, and piled into the car with Jan and the kids. Off we went to Florida to see the Kennedy Space Center. We had a ball. It was relaxing and full of laughter, and it was a time to remember just how much I love being with my family, on the road, crammed into a car. I'm serious. In the car, we can't escape one another. We have to talk. We have to laugh. We have to play endless games of “I Spy” and “The Quiet Game,” which have rules that are (so far) inexplicable to me. But a trip is always a thing that confers wisdom. With summer upon us, I have some pearls of wisdom, some vacation aphorisms, to pass on to my readers, who are probably reading this column while being buried to the waist in sand by laughing children. When you travel with four children, the bill will always be $150 to $200. Remember, you need two rooms or a suite. The $49 per night signs don't apply anymore. And the hourly rate isn't for families. If you go to anything like a nice restaurant, the same bill applies. Remember, you're not a surgical subspecialist. KFC has a nice buffet. Speaking of which, don't even look at the menu. Order chicken nuggets. Or chicken strips. Or chicken legs. Sure, you want the kids to eat healthy and get vitamins. That's what Lucky Charms are for. It's vacation. How malnourished can they get in one week? If the children are hungry and talking about it to the exclusion of “I Spy,” please stop to eat. The next exit sounds like a nice idea. The Promised Land seemed pretty close by to the children of Israel. The next exit was the place my dad always wanted to eat. Sometimes, we drove to the next exit for days on end, weak with hunger. But in fact, the next exit has a questionable barbecue restaurant with a hog farm on one side and a meth lab on the other. Unless you're looking for drugs or Staph food poisoning, don't stop there. For those of you traveling to the South or in the South or from the South: Florida isn't the South, at least most of the “vacationy” parts of it aren't. If you ask for sweet tea, and they point you to the sugar bowl, it isn't the South. Case in point: I was getting a Diet Coke for my wife, and pointed out that the machine wasn't carbonated as it should have been. The middle-aged fast food worker in Florida looked at me and shrugged. That's not the South. If you see a sign for hot boiled peanuts, it's the South. If you see bumper stickers and T-shirts with Confederate flags on them, it's the South. Sushi in a new town: probably not a good idea. Trust me. At the ocean, when the sky is cloudy, the wind is cool, and the waves are cold, the wrong thing to say is, “No sunscreen for me, honey. It's cloudy and windy, and the ocean is cold!” When you go to the Kennedy Space Center, and pay for “Lunch with an Astronaut,” it means “Lunch with an Astronaut and 200 strangers from Australia, England, Scotland, Ireland, Canada, and Germany.” (It's still cool. He's an astronaut, for heaven's sake!) The Kennedy Space Center is apparently a large aircraft, as evidenced by the fact that you can't take in any pointy objects, including nail clippers with knife blades. Hopefully, the metal detectors will prevent anyone from hijacking the space center or one of the ancient, hollow rockets therein, and crashing either into a roadside barbecue stand and meth lab. Children don't feel the cold. They'll jump in pools that make all of your parts instantly microscopic and beg to stay until they (children and parts) turn assorted shades of blue and purple. Sit in a hot tub and your parts may expand to normal size, that is, if they were normal to begin with. Leave business behind and read what you want. For cowboy fans, my recommendation is the perennial classic Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry. You'll want to fight horse thieves and hang murderers. Don't try, though, to go back to the ED looking for a stiff rope and a tall tree, however much it sounds like a good idea and you want to be Augustus McCrae. Budget your trip. Then, on the way home, laugh about how you'll have to donate plasma because you ignored the budget. After your trip, consider leaving medicine to sell gasoline. It's expensive, and everyone needs it. Hey, does that mean it will soon be free, like health care? “We can bill you for your gasoline if you are unable to pay!” When traveling with children, remember two words: Pop Tarts. That's all I need to say about that. At the beach, sand never goes away. I opened my suitcase, and a sand crab had built a little den and laid eggs in the sand I brought home. Your family is only young once. Get up early, walk to the beach in the early light. Find the leftovers of the night, assorted living things, and shells. Hold the hands of your children, roll in the sand, fall down, body surf, throw balls, and be silly. Spend your money on ridiculous little things that they ask for now and then. Life is so wonderful. Why not live it lavishly? Doesn't your spouse look great in her bathing suit! Nod your head yes and tell her so. Sit by her side while the children play, and chat like you used to do before you became so self-important. Shark attacks are rare. But what was that thing that brushed against your leg? There's no place like home, there's no place like home. But clicking your heels won't work. Enjoy the trip home as much as the trip there. It's all a blessing. Have a great summer.
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